Bitter Cold
by mugglesarah
Summary: Modern Day AU. Marcus Eaton is a powerful business tycoon with enough money to feed a small country and enough control to keep his son, Tobias, following in his footsteps. Tris is a girl living on the street who's unintentionally captured Tobias's attention. Will his sympathy outweigh his common sense when it comes to the girl on the street?
1. Selfless

**Hello all! I am so excited to present the first chapter of my new story. For any of you who follow or remember me from my earlier, unfinished story Emergent; I am sorry this is not an update to that! After I stopped writing due to some health issues in my family I lost my direction and pacing with that story. I've tried picking it back up but no luck thus far. However I started working on this back in July and I've recently developed a desire to continue working on and publishing this.**

**As I've said in the past, I have not read very much Divergent fanfic. As such, I'm not really sure if this is something that has already been done yet or not. I did a few searches to try and see and didn't really come up with much. So hopefully this is original.**

**This first chapter is merely introductory and quite a bit shorter than future chapters as well. Due to that, I will probably upload in another day or two to get the story moving. I appreciate any and all feedback and I do hope you take the time out to let me know your thoughts!**

Januarys in Chicago are bitter. The mornings were the coldest. So even with his hurried footsteps and all of the proper winter attire he could still feel the cold seeping through every layer. The clusters of people all around him carried themselves in the same way, simply desperate to be somewhere warm again. They hunch their backs and tuck in their arms, trying to hold in whatever semblance of heat they can.

Most mornings he had blinders on. He metaphorically wore them both due to his mild exhaustion as well as his complete disinterest of interacting with the other individuals or general world around him. So it surprises even himself when his morning takes a turn for the drastically different.

Almost every corner street of Chicago contained a beggar, maybe even a couple. During the winter holidays you could find them outside of many stores, until they were shooed away by the shop owners, playing on people's sympathies for the less fortunate. There were also certain blocks where many could be seen gathered together; very few interacting but almost all coexisting.

Usually they were just groups of older men and women, undoubtedly aged by hardships of living without a home. He finds himself stopping, eyes stuck on the unusual image, pausing despite his earlier brisk pace in order to fight off the constantly intruding cold. Now he finds himself staring ahead, the only thing distorting his image being the bodies walking quickly past him and his own exhalations of warm air. How strange to see someone like the girl in front of him among this group though.

She's young, he thinks, maybe not even of legal age. A runaway, perhaps, or someone who just got mixed in with the wrong crowd. Her stature is short and her build alarmingly small. And he isn't quite sure why he cares about any of that. With a shake of his head he's just about to walk away when movement in the corner of his eye stops him. In the dark recesses of the alley where two buildings sit so close together only the smallest of people might fit comfortably; a young boy pokes his head out.

With blue lips and trembling fingers he steps out, looking scared but weak more than anything else. The girl spies him shortly after. She stares for a moment as well, but then she springs into action. She takes the coat off of her back, it's puffy and an unfortunate shade of green with a large gash in one of the elbows, and holds it out to him. He takes one step toward her, then another, very similar to a timid deer who might be easily startled. Then he snatches the jacket out of her hand and runs the other direction, slow and laborious, but he runs away before she can change her mind.

She makes no move to go after him but instead stands in her far less insulated body, just a long sleeved Henley and some hole filled gloves to keep her warm now.

His hands move in response, an odd twitch really, to take his own coat off and offer it to her. But he quickly thinks better of it. He knows just what his father would say to an act like that. "We only help those who help themselves." The homeless had surrounded him his whole life and he knew only the biggest trouble makers managed to land themselves in this sort of scenario. They didn't work hard enough, didn't strive to make a living and took the easy route out to obtain pity. Just because they were capable of kindness didn't mean he should fall for the silent cries of ill earned sympathy.

So he helps this girl just as much as she's helped herself and turns away, hurrying off again with far less feeling in his feet and a much colder spot in his chest.


	2. Kindness

**Hello again! Here is the second chapter, this one is pretty long. After this you can expect updates every three to four days. I would appreciate any and all feedback from you guys. I generally like to get a sense of overall interest for the story before continuing to post. Down below I'll have a few more notes in terms of what you can expect and some disclaimers. Thank you all and enjoy!**

Tobias Eaton was an up and coming business man. At least that's what Forbes magazine liked to say. The only thing that got him up was an alarm clock and the only thing that made him coming onto anyone's metaphorical radar was his very powerful, very rich father throwing his name out to every client he knows. Honestly, Tobias could retire now, at twenty one years old and live relatively comfortably off of what he'd made so far until his dad kicked the can and then he'd have enough money to buy a small country.

But of course he didn't. For one because his father would kill him; who else was there to carry on the Eaton name? And second of all, because what would he do with his life if he retired at twenty one? It was a little early in life to join the country club golf.

So he stuck to his job and dressed in nice suits and went to long board meetings about issues his father had been discussing since before Tobias could even spell "business." Although that didn't mean he actually knew anything. Someone can talk all they want but it won't make much of a difference if you don't listen.

But he went through most of his life feeling thoroughly unprepared for what people were looking for from him. He often wondered if anyone was looking for anything from him. Surely they must know that he was only where he was because it'd all been handed to him, or more accurately shoved into his arms at the speed of an oncoming train.

Not that he wasn't grateful, that is. He didn't have much an idea of what else he'd be doing were it not for this. And he'd never been in want for anything in his life. At 21 years old he already had his own place, far nicer than the run down apartments and crowded dorm rooms the rest of his graduating class were probably living out of by now. No student loans either, considering he'd never gone to college. He could paint the walls in hundred dollar bills and then use the leftovers to bathe in. Most people didn't have such a chance to live without a passing thought of money. He knew he was lucky.

Despite all of that it didn't mean he didn't resent the suit he wore as he walked into the tall, glass building and took the elevator up to nearly the top floor. On his way to another monotonous meeting about budget cuts and stocks and the increase in McDonald's sales whilst there's a decrease in Nike shoes and were these two matters related? He wouldn't even bother trying to explain the differences in correlation and causation.

He nods in customary politeness to the woman at the front desk, walking straight past her to the crowded elevator. It contained other men in suits sweating nervously in fear of not living up to expectations. Only difference was these men needed their jobs to maintain a livelihood at all. Tobias knew he never had to worry about that for a second.

By the time he reaches the next to top floor, the one containing the most prestigious conference room, he's the only one left. Funny how he didn't even want to be here and yet was better off than all of those other men. Ironic indeed.

The floor plan is spacious, no cubicles or pesky, clunky water coolers cluttering this floor. Everything up here is sleek computers and quietly brewing coffee pots. Even the employees carry themselves and their Louis Vuitton briefcases with more grace.

He walks past all of the pomp and circumstance of fresh fruit and newly arranged flowers as he makes his way straight through the door and into the small gathering of men.

"Tobias!" One of the men greets, throwing out his hand enthusiastically for him to shake. He does. "Nice to see you again."

"Same, Mr. Briar," he says as he takes his hand back and greets the several other men in the room, all in suits and most with an appalling lack of hair. Tobias knew they were most likely all envious of his position, probably resentful that they were clearly more fitted for the profession that would undoubtedly be bestowed upon him for no real reason at all. Yet they all still kissed his ass as though he were actually his father.

Speak of the devil… "Good morning, everyone," his charismatic, commanding tone says as he enters the room. He wasn't even a second early or late. Marcus takes his seat at the head of the table and everyone, who'd previously been standing in greeting of their boss, promptly sat with him. Bit like a judge entering a courtroom really. Tobias tried not to chuckle as he thought of his father as Judge Judy.

The whole room pulls out their binders, notebooks, and pens. Tobias flips opens his notebook and pretends to dutifully take notes of the line graphs and the "very important" discussion that begins. Instead he doodles, nothing too intricate considering he had nothing but a ball point pen, but he draws an eye or a fire burning a city landscape to the ground. Today he begins working on the group of people he'd passed by today, the centre of the photo being of the girl with dirty hair and no coat.

He thinks of her now, altruistically handing over something she so clearly needed. How selfless to just sacrifice the one thing that may be keeping you alive for someone you don't even know. Had he ever been that kind? Was it even possible for him to be? Someone who lived on the streets, was probably lacking a high school diploma, and had most likely never worked hard a day in her life to sustain a livelihood managed to contain something innately inside of her so far surpassing his own capabilities.

Realistically he knew that kindness wasn't something that you could learn through private tutors and fancy boarding schools abroad. But the thought of this girl who should be so insufficient, so much less, in comparison to him was actually so much more…it was unsettling.

What would his father say to thoughts like these? He'd call her trash. He'd say she was useless. He'd reiterate that the world would be better off not having to support life like that. After all, what was their contribution in return?

He had to wonder to himself though, if these were fair opinions or not. Maybe they were good people who had merely fallen through the cracks of a flawed system. Maybe they were kids who'd had nowhere to go and decided nowhere was better than the somewhere they'd lived before. Maybe they were like him, pushed so far to the edge that it was either dive headfirst into the puddle of insanity or run like hell in the other direction. Maybe they were just smarter than him to make a better choice.

His father clears his throat, which makes Tobias look up to find his father, still talking, but fixing him with a stern look. It was harsh enough for Tobias to flip the page of his subpar drawing to a blank sheet and dutifully took notes for the rest of the meeting.

In the winter months the sun sets before most people are out of work. As such, it was pitch black out by the time Tobias was finally able to escape the office at eight pm. The street lamps and city signs advertising 24 hour coffee and all-you-can-eat Chinese lit his way as he started his trek home.

He chose to walk home certainly not because he could not afford a car, in fact he had one parked in his apartment's parking garage, nor was it because of some great dislike of taxis. But he found it somewhat calming to just let his feet carry him to and from each destination. His own accomplishment, no matter how small it was. His father had not bought him the legs he walked upon, they could not be held over his head.

With the ever winding streets of Chicago Tobias often took a myriad of different paths home, rarely using the same one twice in one day. Tonight is different however. He does not choose so much as just find himself walking home the same way of which he had come this morning.

He's insistent with himself that he'll just walk past the area where he'd paused this morning, make sure no one was passed out from the cold or anything. He was practising kindness in an attempt to keep a practical invalid from surpassing his own moral worth. As if that were even possible.

What's funny was that he'd never really believed himself in the first place anyway. Of course he pauses.

By now the sun has gone down and someone has set fire in one of those old, metal cans that were taller than most children. Groups had gathered to huddle around in desperation to capture their own small piece of warmth. The firelight flickered off of their faces. It honestly made just about anyone look beautiful. It's hard to distinguish wrinkles or missing teeth with just a glimmer of spectacular light flashing across someone's face.

He has to admit to himself that he scanned every individual in search of the same girl he'd watched this morning. She's nowhere to be seen amongst the masses, however. Just when Tobias is about to walk off and forget about the whole damn debacle his eyes find themselves directed to the dark, forgotten street corner, no street light or fire to fill the space.

She sits there. Her knees are pulled tight to her chest and though it is hard to tell from such a distance Tobias does not doubt she is shivering madly.

Scientifically speaking all humans contain one decision making portion. Financially speaking there's only one thing humans consider before making a decision. He wonders what study would agree with the fact that two parts of one human could conflict so greatly.

His brain knows well. Walk away and forget someone you owe nothing to. His heart argues vehemently. What sort of person walks away from someone so selfless just because he does not want to be bothered? Tobias knows what his father would choose. Marcus Eaton would walk away without a second thought. In fact, he never would have stopped at all.

But if Tobias was just going to grow up and be his father then why would he ever want to grow up at all?

So he shuts off his brain and forgets his father and starts walking, admittedly slowly, over to her. Stepping up onto the curb feels a little bit like stepping under the rope at a museum. This portion of the sidewalk belonged to the homeless. They were to be observed, pitied, and maybe funded for future exploitation or personal gratification. Interaction however, that was somewhere between unheard of and a very bad idea.

When he first stops in front of her she doesn't even look up, head buried in her knees to huddle for warmth. He takes off his coat. It was expensive and fancy and he owned about three more that were just as good.

He crouches down because he remembers the feeling of staring up to someone who towers so high above you. And then he taps her shoulder. Lightly and without threat, trying to express he wanted no harm all within a slight touch.

Despite his attempts she still jumps, throws herself to the side slightly and flings her arms out behind her to catch her. She's still shivering. "I'm sorry," he says immediately, hands held up in apology. "Didn't mean to scare you like that."

She just shakes her head. Over and over. She looks broken, like a toy who's batteries are failing but not yet all the way dead. Maybe she's bewildered or in shock. Regardless she just stares at him.

"I wanted to give you this," he says as he pulls off his coat, the one he can easily replace whilst she has nothing and yet handed hers over so much more easily. "You seem to need it more than I do."

Unlike the little boy who snatched it quickly from her hands the girl just stares down at his hands holding out his offering. With no other movement she looks back up to his face and stares for a minute before saying, "I can't _pay_ you." She looks him up and down and he knows she does not mean money at all. The way she says it almost sounds like she would, but she'd like to verify he's not a cop first.

His heart seems to beat a little more tightly as he holds it out even further. "I don't need you to pay me, not in _any_ way." Still nothing. "Here," he says and takes the initiative. He takes it and wraps it around her shoulders though it doesn't cover much else.

At first she flinches but once his hands are away from her she pulls it closer and wraps it around her like a cocoon. "Better?" he asks and she stares up at him. Even in the near absolute darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight and faint flares of fire, he can see her eyes wide and confused.

"Thank you," she says quietly, bashfully even. "I don't understand…"

He thinks about leaving it out. Just let himself seem like a good guy who often gave away his department store coats to the homeless he passed by. But the part of him that might actually have the potential to be a good guy won't let him. "I saw you. This morning, with the boy."

She's silent again, her face still wide with confusion. "When you gave him your coat for no reason. I watched you take off the only thing you have and hand it to some stranger so I figured I should…return the favour." He shrugs, feeling stupid now although he knows he's nothing but appreciated.

"I didn't do that just to get-"

"I know," he says quickly to cut her off. He shifts his feet, his thighs and calves burning from staying crouched in front of her for so long. "Just…say thank you and we'll go our separate ways now."

"Thank you," she says so quickly it barely even sounds like a word. The gratitude resides in her voice though. "I'll pay you back eventually, I promise."

A shake of his head as he stands should be enough to tell her not to worry about it. It kind of killed the whole being nice thing if you just received payment for your kindness. "Good night," he says instead and turns away, now walking quite a bit quicker with nothing left to protect him from the freezing temperature outside than his gloves and work jacket. What a dumbass.

**Alright well I hope everyone enjoyed that. As I was saying, I need to make a few disclaimers regarding this story and where I am going with it.**

**The first is in reference to the rating. For now I'm going to have it as a T rating but in another five or so chapters expect it change to an M. This story will contain a lot of mature content and as such you can expect some very difficult stuff. For many I know there are topics that can trigger you. If you're concerned on this topic please message me or leave it in a review and I will respond to let you know what you can expect as well as how to avoid it.**

**I also would just like to state that I am not glamorizing homelessness. It is a terrible tragedy that happens to far too many people for a slew of different reasons. I for one have never even been near homelessness and as such my knowledge on the experience is limited to what I am able to find on the internet and my own personal perception as well as what works best for the story. The struggles they face are terrible and do not generally end in love stories. This is a fictional story so of course situations will be different. I just ask that you keep this in mind whilst reading. Once again thank you all!**


	3. One Girl

**Hello! I'll keep this one short, I swear. I just wanted to thank everyone for their reviews and follows and I hope you all continue to enjoy this story. Also, as with any story, there is certain amount of build up that I must do before we get to delve into the story fully. I hope you still enjoy these chapters as I work to build up these characters and establish grounds to work within. All support is appreciated. Enjoy!**

After that night Tobias makes a point of not taking the same route again. He decides he shouldn't even give her an opportunity to attempt and pay him back. Nor should he continue being around her before he ends up bringing her dinner or another jacket or a car. Because he still found himself feeling inclined to help.

Stupid that it was just one girl when there were several people scattered all throughout the city in the same situation. Why did he feel no pity for the man who sat pressed against a brick wall with an obvious infection festering in his leg or the old guy who held up signs and actively sought out people willing to help? Perhaps it was a chivalry thing. After all, she was a girl living on the streets. Not unheard of, of course, but still far less often seen.

He tried to imagine it. How would it feel to not have a home? When he lay in bed at night he thought what it must feel like to be laying against the hard sidewalk cement with the wind blowing around you. His meals were generally all bought at some restaurant or another on his way to and from work, either that or from a cup of Easy Mac. He couldn't even really imagine not being able to eat just because he couldn't afford it.

It all seemed a little absurd to him. Even though he'd been aware of the state of these people his whole life, had walked by them and ignored them alike. It was only now that he even gave it a second thought.

To be homeless you must be alone. Either having alienated your whole family or been abandoned by them. Tobias's father was an asshole. Tobias would gladly never see him again and it wouldn't be a moment too soon for him. At the same time though, should he appreciate his old man more for the fact that he was so willing to fund his every need and whim?

His childhood hadn't been puppies and rainbows by any means. Still, he seriously doubted life on the streets would have been less hellish. Even having lived the life he had, perhaps in comparison to others he was actually exceptionally fortunate. When he considered being the same as the coatless, freezing girl, he suddenly felt very grateful for his less than ideal life.

So over the next couple of weeks he actually finds himself walking to work with a little more determination. There was a new found appreciation for the fact that he had a job at all.

At least on the walk into work, that is. Once he got there it was all handshakes and business meetings and inconsequential debates over unimportant matters. He hardly considered himself an existentialist. Nevertheless, even he still found himself asking the question, what is purpose of any of this?

So he remained his usual silent, participating only by force self. That is until the Thursday afternoon when he sits in a meeting with the company's public service rep. They're talking about which way to best represent the company positively this quarter. Last quarter they'd donated money to the local elementary school for new equipment, the one before a check to the nearest cancer research hospital.

The only reason they bothered, Tobias knew, was for how good it made the company look. Page four of the business section of the newspaper wasn't a half bad spot to having your praises sung for helping the school keep the music program and feed the poor kids.

It was still a good thing to do. The company didn't have to give money at all. And besides, isn't giving for the wrong reasons still better than not giving anything at all? Maybe some kid got lunch at school because of their obligatory "look good" money or maybe some mom was enrolled in a new experimental trial that saved her life. Optimistic, sure but where's the harm in that?

Today Tobias' father has left him alone in the meeting. It's technically run by the public service rep, Katie, he thinks her name is. The whole idea is for a few select employees and Katie to select the best place to donate to next and in which format to do so.

"I have a thought, actually," Tobias says when there's a slight lull as Larry from accounting argues giving any sum of money to NASA is the stupidest thing he's ever heard. The room falls automatically silent. No one was technically in charge here, but everyone knew Tobias held all of the power. Until Marcus walked in, that is.

"Of course, go ahead," Katie says with a nod.

He deliberates. Had he not of already opened his mouth he might not say anything at all. Unfortunately it was a bit late to take it back. "Well I was just thinking, something that might really portray the company and our employees in the best light would be to feed the homeless." His voice sounds hopeful. His fellow employees look dumbfounded.

No one outright says anything. He can hear the comments they'll be making once he is no longer in earshot though. "Hear me out," he pleads. "What better way to show we care for the community than to go out there and personally hand over supplies to those in need?"

Still blank stares and awkward shifting.

"Media can get way more material watching us distribute all of the items. Not to mention, it'll look good that we are sacrificing our time in addition to money." He shrugs, trying to seem like he feels nonchalant about the issue. Honestly he found himself rather unexpectedly passionate about this project. Be it his newfound friend or his newfound guilt. One or the other was fuelling his desire.

Katie lights up once he mentions the media though. "So true," she says with an enthusiastic nod. "We'd be front page of the business sector of the newspaper and would probably make the 11 o' clock news."

No one else speaks. They are all, clearly but silently, against the idea. They have no desire to interact with the homeless more so than those who have contracted Ebola. They probably figured homelessness was contagious.

"I'll head up the project, myself," he offers. "Recruit a few other office members to work and the rest to donate the money to gather supplies."

For the first time in any meeting he's ever attended he feels awake. He wants to expand even further on his plans and get as many on board as he was. This wasn't dumb finances with stock markets and creating this advertisement to increase these sales. This was making a difference for real.

He can't help but think of one girl with nothing but his coat on her back who he would happily hand a paper bag with enough food to fill her belly for once. Was he ever really doing the right thing for the right reasons? It felt awfully selfish as he thought it. Feed the homeless so he can see a girl again. Regardless, she would appreciate it anyway, right?

"Someone tell me I need a new hearing aid and not that you've lost your damn mind." His father's voice on the other end sounds tired more than angry, but the undertone of irritation is still there.

Tobias clears his throat. "Hello to you too, Father," he says dryly as he walks home distractedly from work.

The weather was cresting toward almost above freezing for the first time in weeks, and though still plenty cold, he found himself revelling in the warmth. The streetlights shone all around him as walked, as did the neon signs for "best coffee in the city!" and "brick oven pizza" advertised on every side of him.

He side stepped a lady as he turned right for the sake of elongating his course just a bit. His thoughts wandered to the inevitable lashing out he was about to get though.

"You want to waste my manpower and company time on some silly little project feeding the urchins of Chicago?"

He flinches, even through the phone his father's voice was threatening. "Katie thought it was a great idea," he argues. "She said it'd bring in all sorts of publicity."

He can hear the eye roll from here. "You know what else offers publicity? Writing a damn check to an organisation that can actually use it."

He takes one left and then another, making a U-turn for the sake of not stopping yet. Home did not seem very welcoming. "It was just a thought!" he knows better than to raise his voice.

"You better watch your fucking tone, Tobias. Or so help me god I'll come over to that apartment and make you wish that YOU were homeless."

He sighs, doesn't sound so bad right now. No, he's not that stupid. This thirty degree weather would not be nearly so glorious if he were sleeping in it tonight. "Tell them no. No one looked that enthused besides Katie anyway."

He grunts on the other end. "That would be a fine solution if she had not already released our next charitable event plans to every form of the media there is."

He want to tell him that's a good thing. After all, that was the whole reason they even did this damn thing in the first place.

"Look, I'm sorry. I was just trying to involve myself like you always say."

He laughs on the other end. It's bitter. "Next time participate by agreeing with my idea or suggesting a label colour change." And he wonders why he hates his job so much sometimes. "Lord knows you're too much of a dumbass to do anything else."

The line goes dead after that. Well then, good start to his evening. The other patrons on the sidewalk carry on in their same fashion. Some so tired they looked like they could fall over, others bundled from head to toe, and some, well some are just sitting there in a corner huddled under a coat for warmth. He smiles.


	4. Symbiotic

**Hello again! Thank you all once again for your feedback. I do hope it continues. I hope you enjoy the chapter and the next one will be posted on Sunday!**

It's a bit funny. How walking across the street is similar to walking across a battlefield. He's dodging bullets engraved with "bad idea" and walking past the limbless, tortured civilities war claims in order to cross to a warring land and sacrifice himself. Perhaps he's thinking a little bit dramatically since he walks past the same group huddled around the same can and stands in a slightly different spot above very much the same girl. All without critical injury befalling him.

"Hello," he says, trying to force his voice to be warm, kind. He was told that he had a commander like tone. A trait he adopted from his father's tendencies to bark out orders no doubt.

She's down on the ground, legs spread out in front of her instead of pulled close to her chest this time. Still, he feels awkward staring so far down at her. He sits across from her and crosses his legs beneath him. "The fuck…" she says as she stares at him.

"I was just thinking, maybe you'd be interested in getting a cup of coffee?" The offer is innocent, filled with the best of intentions that he didn't even know he had up until a moment ago.

"Are you-are you playing me right now?" she asks, her voice harsh. Everything about her looked harsh as the headlights of a passing car briefly lights her up face. "It's going to take a hell of a lot more than a coat and a cup of coffee to buy me for a night."

She almost sounds insulted that he would think otherwise. For a second he's defensive, ready to remind her that a he'd handed over his coat and asked for nothing in return. That moment of indignation passes though. How often were things given to her without the expectation of something in return? Instead, Tobias is filled with the shock that she was programmed to jump to such a conclusion. "I didn't mean…" He blushes even though he's a perfectly grown and sexual being. "Look, I just wanted to grab a cup of coffee with you, maybe some soup or something."

Now she nods slowly at him. "Alright, you're getting closer. How much cash are you willing to offer?"

He holds his hands up and stands to distance himself from her. "That's not what I want at all." He's insistent, glad that she can't see the deepening colour of his cheeks.

"Then what is your deal?" She shakes her head slowly at him in question. "I have nothing to offer you." Her voice softens as she says this. Perhaps the shame in saying such a sentence weighs on her and leaves her feeling smaller.

Clearly he was doing this wrong. Helping people was supposed to be done from a distance. Put a dollar in the Salvation Army bins at Christmastime; give giant checks to children's hospitals. He tried to get too personal. "I'm sorry," he apologises and taking another step back. "I just had a shitty day and thought maybe it'd be a little less shitty if I could help someone else."

"So…" she says it slowly, thinking through something. "Are you saying I'm your charity case?"

He wants to say no, he doesn't want to offend her. "Well…" That was answer enough.

She laughs, loud and clear and breaking through all of the surrounding chatter and sirens and car engines. It was a burst of fresh air in the otherwise contaminated atmosphere. "In that case, what the hell? I'll take a sandwich if it'll solidify your overall feelings of worth as a person."

Taking the coat that had formerly been draped across her body, she stands and pulls it on. It hangs off her short and skinny stature like the coat of a sumo wrestler. All the same she wraps it tighter. "Well lead the way," she says with an exaggerated gesture of her right arm, spreading it as if the whole world is an endless abyss of coffee opportunities.

He steps forward and she matches his step. Then he walks with more confidence, leading the way but she walks beside him, not behind. He's pleased, albeit feeling exceptionally awkward. What exactly had he been thinking? Where was he even supposed to go from here? This wasn't how the normal world worked. There was no outline to follow for this situation.

"Promise you're not going to like, kill me in some weird corn field or anything?" she asks with a voice of humour. Her voice was a bit deep for a girl, especially of her size. One might expect a high pitched, near child's voice to fall from her lips. Instead she has a heavier voice, one that, although pleasant, sounds weighed down.

With a shake of his head he smiles in response. "Nah, just thought that you might like coffee and I'd like some company."

"Ah," she answers. "So a symbiotic relationship?" she says with a question but also a hidden assurance.

He holds the door open to the place that had promised "best coffee in the city!" It would seem false advertising worked in their favour. Honestly, he's surprised by her word choice. He'd spent most of his life believing only the stupidest of individuals lived on the streets. Certainly not the type of people to use words like symbiotic. "Sounds kind of shitty when you put it like that."

"You mean it sounds like what it is?" She's blunt about the issue at hand. What astounds him is how utterly opposite she is of all of his expectations so far. He'd thought for sure she'd be timid, a quiet sort of polite outlined with uncertainty. Instead she was far more abrasive, dauntless in what she said and how she held herself. "Like the fact that you're using me to feel better about whatever shitty thing you've done?"

He pauses, slack jawed from surprise. "I haven't done- I don't know where you're getting this from, but I haven't like, murdered someone or anything." He says the last part quieter, even though no one around them was paying a spare bit of attention. "I'm trying to better myself as a person, just because."

She smiles wryly at him. "Isn't that still doing it for the wrong reasons?"

That abruptly halts the conversation though as she wraps the coat around her tighter, though it is much warmer in the little coffee shop he assumes she's trying to hide her tattered street clothes. Not much to be done about the hair though. She steps up to the counter and places her order, a large coffee with an even larger chocolate muffin to accompany it.

"Anything else?" the young barista asks as she hands the steaming hot cup of coffee across the counter.

The girl looks back at him, stepping aside to allow him forward in order to place his order. He places his own order for a large coffee and a grilled cheese and then swipes his debit card that linked pretty much directly into his father's account. How furious would he be now if he knew what Tobias was using his card for? Helping the homeless twice in one day. Surely he'd use more colourful language than "dumbass" if he was aware.

Tobias reaches out and takes his coffee as well, and he leads the way to a table in the corner of the shop. The general bustle of the coffee shop still plays in the background as they take their seats and the girl drinks greedily from her cup, looking absolutely lost in pleasure as she takes long, glorious sips.

Tobias takes his own small sips, attempting to receive the same joy over a simple cup of coffee and failing. He smiles awkwardly across from her, pretending to be busy reading the chalkboard menu that he's already ordered off of. Neither of them can bring themselves to say anything and the silence is stifling until their food is delivered moments later.

She delves into the warm chocolate muffin, peeling off the wrapper and not even feigning manners as she rips off chunks to stuff them into her mouth. "People don't appreciate warm food enough in the winter," she mumbles around the gooey chocolate.

Tobias agreed wholeheartedly as this grilled cheese sandwich was just that to him, a grilled cheese. She behaved as though her muffin was a gift bestowed to her from the heavens.

In a too crammed corner of the coffee shop a young man stands, probably no older than seventeen or eighteen years old, and quietly begins strumming a guitar before muttering check into the microphone a few times. His fingers strum out the first few chords of Chasing Cars before he quietly sings along with the melody.

"Oh, I love this song," she says, pulling Tobias' attention back to the girl next to him. He knows he shouldn't be surprised, it's not like she hasn't heard music in her lifetime. But it seems somewhat odd to him, knowing that Maslow's hierarchy of needs is so clearly wrong. She hadn't food nor shelter yet she still appreciated music. Nonessentials were not simply ignored in place of her needs.

He smiles tightly at her again, not knowing how to reply aloud to her comment. Instead he slides the place across to her, a full half sandwich and pickle remaining on it. "I've had enough, if you want it go for it."

She gives him a knowing stare before picking it up and taking a large bite. Her small moan of approval isn't missed. "Why the fuck is this place not filled to the brim with customers?" she asks herself.

"Can I ask your name?" he questions, unable to staunch his curiosity any longer.

She doesn't answer at first, seemingly in deliberation. He wonders for a second if she'll simply turn him down, but she swallows the food in her mouth before answering with affirmation, "Tris."

"Tris," he answers back, smiling as he says it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Tobias."

"Well Tobias," she says as she straightens her shoulders and wiping her dirtied fingers from the remaining crumbs. "I do hope this is the start to an ongoing symbiotic relationship."


	5. Needs

**Once again, I appreciate all of your kind words. So sorry this ended up being posted so late! I intended to post this morning but had no time today whatsoever. Next chapter will be posted on Wednesday, and before almost midnight lol. I hope you enjoy the chapter and do let me know what you think!**

Conversation dissipated shortly after the food was gone and they'd sat quietly. Just listening to the amateur guitar player a bit longer before Tobias gets up and holds out his hand in a gesture to escort her out. They both step back out into the freezing temperatures, the air feeling ten degrees cooler than when they'd walked in.

He felt stupid, debating whether he should be walking her back or not. How can you walk a girl back to a home that did not exist? Surely she was just as safe walking home as she would be sitting in her street corner.

So he cleared his throat and stood a little bit taller. He felt like a giant next to her already. "Well good night then," he says and she nods in return before turning the other direction and walking away.

And that was that.

Hindsight is a funny thing, Tobias decides on his own walk home. Knowing what he does now would he still have asked her along, he wonders. He'd found her company not the least bit agonizing at all. Admittedly he still felt weird about the whole exchange. Perhaps all of his father's prejudices left him feeling dirty about his interaction, or maybe the sane portion of his mind just knew what an unusual evening it was he had taken part in.

He turns the lock to his apartment, swinging the 50th floor door wide open to reveal the largely empty space. Apartment was what they called it. Pent house was somewhat more appropriately termed. He had hardly decorated an inch of it, allowing decorators hired by his father to do the majority of the work.

They'd gone for the sleek and modern approach. Stainless steel appliances, a black dining room table, and a large, rather nice looking but not nearly as comfortable, leather couch filled the area. With an absurdly giant television screen taking up nearly one whole wall of his living room.

He threw his keys in the middle of the table and kicked off his shoes before toeing them nicely to their spot by the door.

A part of himself always wanted to leave the whole foyer in disarray. A wake of destruction in his otherwise orderly life. A harsh upbringing had unfortunately impressed upon him the need for a continuously clean home however. So any small rebellions were quickly tidied away before the anxiety of it could truly set in.

He sheds his suit for the day. Hanging the jacket and tie back up to be worn another day and throwing the remainder of his clothes into the designated hamper set in the corner of his oversized closet.

Water did not exist in a form hot enough to ease away the tension in his muscles. Even as his skin is red and slightly scalding, a pain just there enough for him to register, he still only wishes it'd become just slightly hotter.

It's a bit of a humbling experience when he thinks of Tris and how she lacks a shower. Let alone hot water to chase away tension and a coldness that settles deep into your bones. Perhaps he could appreciate the billows of steam and steady torrent of water that fell all around him now.

Just as he spared a second thought for the fact that he could walk through his building in nothing but a T-shirt and boxers in a season when thermometers barely even saw the 20 mark. Or the fact that a flip of a switch filled them room with light and all he had to do was open his cupboard to find enough food to gorge himself for at least a week.

What a self-indulgent, absorbed, little bastard he really was. Far more than he could ever need and triple what most could even think of having. Yet he was never satisfied.

The thoughts weighed him down, making him feel too heavy for sleep. He doesn't know what's wrong with him. People don't just make friends with random girls on the street. You don't just form a connection with the irreparably damaged like that. Yet his screwed up self somehow had managed to do such a thing.

Just the thought of what his father would have to say on the matter set Tobias with warring emotions once more. He enjoyed toeing the line of flat out rebellion, but the fear that struck through him killed that pleasure in mere moments. When it came to his father, Tobias had only managed to gain one defence.

So he shoves his feet into tennis shoes and stops to get his headphones from his room before going down to the gym and working out his endless confusion and frustration until he was too tired to care about anything other than sleep.

He woke up early the next morning, the glare of sun off of the fresh, heavy snowfall adding extra light to stream through his windows. The pillows that surrounded him and the down comforter that covered him were welcome as he glanced outside and envisioned the freezing walk to work. He rolled over, trying to hide away from the day that was fast approaching. Another bought of business banter and disappointed stares. To say enthusiasm was lacking was a serious understatement.

The persistent ringing of his phone finally coerced him to climb out from under the covers. He answered gruffly, still not really awake.

"Don't come in today," his father's voice says from the other line. "You've already started enough chaos with this feed the homeless bullshit anyway. Have all your shit for it together by Monday."

And then he hung up without waiting for a response.

At hearing his Friday would no longer be consumed by boring men in boring suits saying boring things Tobias found a renewed energy and was all set to make himself some breakfast and start his homework for the day. Another idea entirely settled itself in the forefront of his mind however, and refused to be ignored for even a second.

So instead of remaining comfortably in his apartment all day with a hot cup of coffee and some mind numbing television he dresses and pulls on one of his heaviest coats and starts making the trek to a familiar coffee shop.

Twenty minutes and an armload of food later, he finds himself at what was quickly becoming the street corner that was to be his undoing. Many of the usuals were ducked under awnings, trying to find a spot to sit that wasn't covered in the freezing snow.

Tris has wrapped herself up tight in his coat and is sleeping with her head resting against the building behind her. As he approaches he feels a flash of fear when he sees her eyes closed and lips blue. She didn't even look alive like this. The only indicator that she still was comes from the condensation of each exhale.

Tobias knew there were shelters in the area. He also knew that, as a young female, aid from the state would not be hard to obtain. So he couldn't help asking himself, why the hell was she freezing on the streets instead? Surely a cluttered shelter was preferable to hypothermia. And receiving state aid could be no more humiliating than sleeping in the open for everyone to gawk at your helplessness.

Seeing as he was neither a shelter nor the state, he wasn't really sure why he was once again kneeling next to her and gently shaking her shoulder to wake her up. She jerks suddenly, pulling away from him and landing herself in the pile of snow next to her. She over compensates to get away from the cold and ends up falling against him, all of her weight falling into his lap.

"Jesus Christ," she says as she clambers off of him and huddles herself back against the wall. "The fuck are you trying to do?" The anger in her voice is overridden by the tremors in her body which are then combined with a round of rough, violent coughing.

"Sorry," he says, holding his hands up in a sign of submission. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She watches him for a second, her breathing heavily, before shrugging. He can visibly see the tension ease out of her as she realises that he's not a threat. "S'alright," she answers him. Her voice is raspy, and she attempts to clear her throat, only causing her to cough more.

"Are you okay?" he asks, worry furrowing his brow. He wasn't really sure how someone went from looking awful to worse than awful, but she had succeeded.

"Yeah, fine," she answers with a shrug of her shoulder. "Getting sick is a bit of an occupational hazard." She smiles and he does the same, though he isn't quite sure if he finds humour in illness. "Come to ease your conscious again?"

He contemplates his answer only to find he doesn't have one. Why was he here? Surely not for her sunny disposition and sparkling personality. "I was just getting coffee on my way to work and they screwed my order up so I figured you might be interested."

She eyes him in suspicion. Of course she knew he was lying. Even if he was a particularly great liar she would still know. Coffee shops don't screw up your order with an extra coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and a muffin. The question for him was; why did he feel the need to lie at all? "I mean, I would've just taken it to work to give to someone but they're all jackasses."

She smiles for a brief second before accepting the coffee from his hand. He watches the way she holds it, wrapping her fingers tightly just to let the warmth of the liquid seep through to her frozen tendons. She breathes in the steam with eyes closed before taking a long draw of the liquid. "And I'm not?"

He pauses for a second, so caught up in watching her drink he's forgotten what they were talking about. "A jackass?" he chuckles. "Wouldn't be my first choice of adjective." He holds the bag out as well and she glances at it for only a second before taking it from him.

He takes advantage of the mostly dry spot next to her and sits down. "I actually had something I needed to ask you," he says, feeling only partially heard as she opens the bag and peers in. She answers with a half acknowledging, "hm?" before pulling out the breakfast sandwich and unwrapping it. "What do you need most?"

Now she looks at him curiously, eyebrows furrowed to speak the words she couldn't get out around the mouthful of eggs, bacon, and toast. "Like how people are always giving stuff to the homeless. What do you actually need? I mean, do you guys regularly get socks so you have enough socks to last a lifetime but no one ever gives you gloves so your hands still freeze?"

"Why?" she mumbles out around her breakfast.

"My company does this charity project every few months and this month we're going to be giving to the homeless. I was just thinking you might know best what sort of stuff we should be handing out." He shrugs feeling stupid as he explained it. Funny how talking to someone he'd been raised to consider as far beneath him could leave him feeling so small.

She doesn't answer for a while, taking several bites out of her sandwich. He wonders if she's chewing contemplatively or simply ignoring him. "Shampoo," she answers finally. "And soap too. The shelters have showers for us but they don't supply products. Toothbrushes and paste are always good."

"How about food? Should we give out sandwiches and stuff?"

"It won't hurt," she answers. "But honestly we can get food from soup kitchens most of the time and most people are way more in need of coats and extra socks, shoes are always great if you can come by them. Oh, and bus tokens! You can stay warm all night with one of those."

He nods, pulling out his phone to type everything in under a new note before he forgot. "Thanks Tris, this is great."

"Likewise," she answers quietly in reference to her food. She bit her lip uncertainly and he could sense how awkward she felt. "Symbiosis at its best right here," she says with a small smile.

He smiles and stands up, sensing she was ready for him to go. "Well thanks again, I better get going, but I'll see you around."

She offers him a nod as she rolls her paper bag up with the muffin still inside. "Good luck with the jackasses."

He nods one last time before turning and walking away. Despite the snow that surrounded all around him and the bitter wind that blew against him, he could not deny the warmth that he felt growing deep in his chest.


	6. Scotch

**Okay, turns out this is a bit of a monster of a chapter. I did some serious revising/rewriting last night and it pretty much doubled in length. Dealing with some more adult stuff near the end of this chapter, another reminder that the rating will be changing soon. Thanks so much, once again, to all of you taking the time to leave your reviews. They are all so wonderful! Do keep it up. Next update on Saturday. Hope you enjoy!**

Monday morning, normally the most dreaded morning of all, was perhaps the first day of his entire career that Tobias woke up eager to go to work. Throughout the weekend he'd rehearsed a presentation, created charts, and put together the ever present PowerPoint that were pretty much a requirement of meetings. Tobias was unsure if his excitement from this project stemmed from the obvious detest his father would have towards it, or his own pride in the work he was doing. What a difference he felt, having the opportunity to service someone other than himself for once.

He entered the opaque, harsh building with his head held high, forgetting to feel cold and indifferent to everything. His greetings were presented with such vigour that he didn't doubt several of his co-workers were looking at him with alarm.

He arrives in the downscaled, yet still unnecessarily fancy, conference room before anyone else. Charity meetings did not warrant the fancy pent house meeting room but god forbid these men sit somewhere without leather seats and cherry oak tables.

Tobias gets to work quickly, propping up the metal easel and displaying his charts and getting the projector on and running. All of this was heavily reminiscent of high school. Even the nervousness that hovered over him in fear of the grade he'd inevitably be receiving from his father at the end of all this. Tobias was not turning a blind eye to the fact that the only reason he would be coming to this at all was for an opportunity to judge him.

He had hardly spent much time past the age of six in hopes of pleasing his father, more so aiming to placate instead. Today he wanted to believe he was in this for nothing more than an opportunity to help someone else, but he also did stand a little straighter at the thought of showing his father just what he was capable of. The cowering boy could also be the independent business man.

Finally the men start filing in and, in a manner unfamiliar to Tobias, a few women enter as well. The gender distribution is usually not so wide in the more upscale meetings he attends. Which, in short, means usually there is not variety, only one gender to be seen.

He greets everyone enthusiastically. With a hand shake and a, "thank you for coming." Unfortunately he doesn't believe he knows a single person's name in this room .

That is until Katie, he thinks, walks in just before the start time, slightly flustered but clearly excited as she takes her seat and gives Tobias a thumbs up. Surely she was going to be gather information to release to the media in order to garner this story as much publicity as possible. Why settle for just being on the front page once?

At the exact moment the meeting was called for, Marcus walks through the door. This effectively shifts the entire atmosphere of the room as smiles vanish and shoulders tense. Tobias's confidence wavers as his gaze meets his father. The scent of disapproval wafts all the way to the other end of the room. It makes him feel small, a pansy, was one of his father's favourite words for him as a kid. And here he was, still playing off the weaknesses of others instead of doing anything to help himself.

Someone clears his throat and Tobias is pulled back to the here and now of the conference room. He meets his father's gaze at the opposite end of the table one more time before looking away and saying, "Welcome," the room with a loud and clear voice. "Thank you all, again, for coming."

Everyone nods graciously in response aside from the few half asleep businessmen just staring down at the table. He can hardly fault them seeing that's usually his position at these things.

Tobias clears his throat to begin. "As such a prestigious and well known company we decided a few years back to use a portion of our fortunate income in order to reach out and help others the best we could. As such, we've provided multiple good causes with money that surely aided in funding they desperately needed." He pauses, allowing everyone the opportunity to tune back in. "Now I think it's time we actively engage our community to show we care. Money is the beginning step to helping others. One step further is sharing our time and personal efforts to provide for those in need."

He pulls his first slide up, a general picture of the beggars on the streets of Chicago. "As a large city, we are filled to the brim with people in need. We walk by these people every day and maybe spare some change or a dollar for them, but what do they really need? Well, I went directly to the source to find this out."

Marcus' eyebrows raise at that statement, apparently finding it interesting to know that his son had been interacting with the street urchins he so despised. Helping them was bad enough to begin with, but talking to them was even worse. "What better way to service our community than to go to those most in need, people without homes or food or even warmth, and offer them their most basic necessities?"

The room's attention was mostly his. At the very least, Katie was hanging off his each and every word. "I want to man a team willing to help obtain and bag all of these items together in order to present them to as of the many homeless as possible three weekends from now. I know it's a lot, asking you to sacrifice your time like that, but keep in mind how much more rewarding this will be in the end for us all.

"Here I have slides explaining the most needed products as well as a packaging plan. I need at least six of you working towards getting everything we need and then three or four more of you can work with me to bundle it all together. Then as many as are willing to help can come with us to distribute everything to those on the streets."

He continues on a bit more, using his boards to show the statistics of the homeless. This included the increased risk of illness and death in the winter as well as information such as the percentage of the homeless that were actually veterans. He finished proudly and was surprised to see a majority of the room still listening intently as well as the volunteers who jumped in as soon as he was done.

Everything was perfect up until the part where Marcus Eaton himself stood up, quickly quieting every voice that offered to help. The tension in the room multiplied in mere seconds. "My question," he starts, voice controlled but the undertones of anger that only Tobias could pick out were certainly there. "Is why we're helping these people at all?"

The silence is stifling, every mouth closed tightly as eyes shifted awkwardly to keep from looking at either the boss or his son. Marcus raises his hands as if to say, "Well?" and somehow Tobias finds his voice. "Because they're in need," he answers calmly, almost assertively.

"Oh they're in need." Marcus nods his head a few times before continuing. "What about kids who have cancer or people who lose a limb and don't have health insurance? Are wives who have been widowed because their husbands died in combat not in need? Why are we helping people who have managed to ruin their lives by meddling with drugs and alcohol instead of helping people who have done nothing to deserve their circumstances at all?"

Tobias wants to answer. Every eye on the room is trained on him in anticipation of a response. He rehearsed his answers for this very reason. He hadn't really been expecting his father to challenge him in the middle of a meeting but perhaps it made sense, make sure everyone knows exactly who is in charge.

His answer hangs just out of reach. The beginnings of a sentence dangling in front of him, tauntingly staying just far enough away to keep him from saying anything. Rehearsals and careful planning mean nothing in a situation like this. His tongue goes dry and his heart beats out of rhythm, fight or flight is begging him to run. Because even with the long table of separation and Tobias's long existent height advantage, he still feels three feet tall. He wishes he was still small enough to squeeze himself in between the space of the fridge and the wall, able to stand and pray that no one would find him. But now he's in the open battle field with his armour lying by his feet. The giant is towering over him and David is all out stones to throw and knock him out with.

In an attempt to calm himself he swallows heavily, forgetting the imagery and focusing on what was right in front of him. The room was full, all eyes on him. No immediate threat was looming over him. The giant was restrained purely for the sake of image alone. "Sometimes you don't deserve what you get," he says, unprecedented. "Sometimes life just deals you a shitty hand and you need help to get something a little better."

"This concludes my presentation," Tobias announces before his father can say anything more. "Those of you willing to assist me and Katie in this, please speak with her. We'll reach out to you with further directions on Wednesday. Thank you for your time."

He turns, ignoring the fact that he has a presentation to clean up from, and walks out the door, not the least bit concerned with how the slamming of it will reverberate through the entire glass building.

For the rest of the day Tobias essentially hides in different portions of the office. Katie did catch up with him and praised his presentation as well as his ideas. "I think you have a lot of promise in personal communications," she told him with a smile. "Also, my name is Christina, just for future reference." Well damn, one more thing to be embarrassed over.

His day was so shitty that by the time he left the office his resolve had completely faded and he knew there wasn't a whole lot that could make him feel better. He sets out on the course to his local pub in hopes that would.

There was one other way he'd considered going. His goddamned one track mind couldn't let her go no matter what happened, it seemed. He wasn't able to deny what was so clear to him anymore, however. Call it a guilt complex, an odd sense of responsibility, or a symbiotic relationship. Whatever it was it kept pestering him to go back, check on her, help her. He was a sucker for someone in need. After all, the world was her giant.

However, today was one of Chicago's odd winter days. When the bitter cold receded just enough that some people braved the outdoors without a scarf and gloves at least. People smiled a little more and all around it was the only thing people could talk about. It was these rare days of the season when window shoppers appeared and couples linked arms and walked casually in the dark.

As it was such a pleasant evening, the pub was filled. Tobias fights his way in, squeezing past the already obnoxiously drunk group of men making obnoxiously loud comments for the whole bar to hear. The trick, Tobias had discovered, for not getting carded was to just hand out the money like you were expecting a drink no matter what. As always, his ability to exude confidence worked in his favour.

"Scotch on the rocks," he says and slides his cash across the bar. The bartended takes notice despite the chaos and responds quickly. Before Tobias even knows what's hit him he's downed three scotches and the world has gone appreciatively blurry. His dulled senses and awareness make everything seem a little bit happier. The warmth that floods his veins has little to do with the oddity of above freezing temperatures in January.

He's nursing his fourth, or hell maybe it was his fifth, drink and is about ready to stumble home. Not drunk enough to be useless as a human being but just far enough gone that he at least no longer _feels _useless. He's finding the will to stand from the bar stool when his attention is caught a few feet away from him.

"Get the hell off of me, you creep!" A girl says loud enough to cause several people to turn and stare.

"Calm down, baby, no harm in a little feel," he answers, leaning toward her casually. After his response everyone else turns away, probably having heard this argument ten other times tonight, and leaves these two to their business.

The girl stares at him wide eyed, angry but incapable of doing anything about it. "Just back off." She sounds irritated but turns away with nothing more to say.

Tobias watches as the guy follows after her, pinching her butt and smiling slyly at her. She turns quickly, her hands flying down as if to protect herself. "You act like a hard ass, but you sure don't got one."

Tobias has had enough as he sees the man moves in for a drunk, sloppy kiss. Tobias's fist collides with the side of the other guy's face, the force knocking him off balance and onto the floor.

The commotion is immediate. The previously packed bar suddenly has a space clear as a crowd forms around them to see where the fight is going. Honestly, Tobias was under the impression that this idiot was too drunk to do much of anything. Either he'd been playing up the drunken act or a punch to the face sobered him up awfully quick because he stands back up and has a look of determination set in his face.

He's a big guy, the type with facial piercings and tattoos that, on the wrong sort person, just look dumb and trashy but, on him, give off a vibe of intimidation. "You got a problem?" he asks with a low voice.

Tobias squares himself up, "Yeah, you can't just go grabbing a woman however you want." The adrenaline that begins to flow through him has his hands itching to throw another punch. Hopefully this time he could just knock the son of a bitch out.

"Who exactly is stopping me?" he asks and Tobias sees nothing but rage as he charges forward and uses every part of himself to deck the bastard one more time.

Realistically he knows he has had one too many scotches and should stop before he makes things worse. The irrational part of his brain knows that someone as smarmy as this guy ought to have a lesson in etiquette towards the human population in general.

Perhaps he should have gone with the realistic part of his brain though, as next thing he knows the thick body slams into the side of him and throws him to the floor. Tobias's head and shoulders knock against the bar stools as he stumbles to the ground. Distantly he hears the crowd chanting, but in front of him he senses nothing but the anger that fuels him to stand again.

The two men stand each other off. Tobias ducks out of the way of one punch and smiles cockily about it. This nearly costs him his next hit that he just barely manages to miss. Finally, he's had enough and he grabs the man around the middle and slams him back into the counter, causing glasses to shatter on the floor and stools to scrape as more people scramble out of the way.

Tobias holds the bastard's throat down, his head turned to the side on the counter as Tobias gets in his face and directs the angle of his stare further. "You see her?" he asks. When no one responds he picks the man's head up and slams it back on the counter. "I asked if you fucking see her?"

"Shit, yeah I see her."

"Good. She sees you too. She sees you for the dirty, weak, useless little boy you are." At that he releases his hold and his throat and grabs him by the shirt, pulling him up and then pushing him away again. "Remember how fucking spineless you really are before you _ever_ talk to a woman like that again."

With that he finally turns to walk away, his heart rate going wild in his chest and his palms sweating and shaking against him. Before he's out the door the idiot comes crashing into him again and finally the bar staff get involved and haul him off, throwing him outside and yelling a few expletives his way.

"I ought to charge you for the damage you just fucking did to my bar," he says to Tobias when he comes back in.

Tobias shrugs, not really giving a damn about the idea of spending a couple hundred bucks to replace cheap countertop and three bar stools. "All things considered I won't bother though." He shrugs as Tobias looks to him in surprise. "You did the right thing even if you went the dumb ass way about it."

With that he walks off and Tobias does the same. He's so relieved to feel the cold wind hit his face that he doesn't even bother to put his coat on. He tries to forget about everything that has happened, both just now and earlier today. What a shit storm of crazy.

Now that his pub plan has backfired, all he wants is to just go home and close his eyes and sleep for three days. His blinders are on and not much could have caught his attention in that moment, but of course, the only person who could does.

His head turns as he spies her from the corner of his eye, surprised to find her someplace else. Although he was well aware she didn't spend every second of her life sitting on that street corner it was odd to find her here. He's all prepared to go and talk to her, taking note of her still damp, clean hair and uncommon smile. With another glance he sees someone else talking to her though. It only takes a few seconds to register just who this person is.

Never has Tobias felt quite as angry in his life as he does when he starts to make his way over there. The unexpected happens before he gets very far though. She smiles to this gross, disgusting man and nods to him. He can see the weariness in her eyes but her smile is wide enough to make up for it. She holds her hand out to him and Tobias is almost positive he's giving her a handful of folded up bills.

Tris flips through them quickly before nodding again and turning. Tobias lets out a breath of relief to see her walking away. The pit returns to his stomach though when the snivelling man follows her, looping an arm around her waist and pinching her ass as they go.


	7. Friend

**I'm sorry this is late! I swear I had every intention of posting this yesterday morning but primarily school and sleep kept that from happening. The thing about college is sometimes you have almost nothing to do and then you turn around and you have three essays due and four chapters of assigned reading. Such a pain! Anyway, here it is. Fair warning, although carefully edited and reviewed, I did not have an opportunity to do a complete revision this time around. So if sentences are lacking their usual flow, you know why. I promise I will not make a habit of this. Also, seeing as we're near 15,000 words into this story, I'm going to be jumping into the meat of it and picking up the pace. Pacing is something I always struggle with in story telling but I'm confident in my current choices so far. I hope you enjoy this instalment and keep me posted on your thoughts! Next chapter potentially on Tuesday, but more likely Wednesday **

Tobias wondered if perhaps his shock and, quite frankly disappointment, were unfounded.

After all, people didn't live on the streets because they followed the straight and narrow path in life. Nor did they have income via actual jobs and surely there were times when desperation set in. Be it for clothes, food, drugs, or even just a chance for warmth. It made sense. He knew that it was probably what she had to do. Hadn't she practically insinuated it when he'd offered his coat?

Despite all of this claimed previous knowledge, it was still a bit of slap in the face watching her walk off with some disgusting pig of a man to sell her body. He known before she was in need but perhaps he'd overlooked just how desperate she might be.

He watches them walk away until they disappear around a corner and he has half the mind to follow after them. But who was he to even experience these feelings of disgust and horror and overwhelming concern, let alone go after her? He was no one. In the grand scheme of it all, the most that could be attributed to him was offering her a few cups of coffee and a coat.

He had the right to nothing. Especially not concern.

So he turned and walked away, trying to pretend he hadn't seen anything. A mental block just needed to be applied to this entire day. Something to make him forget the embarrassment of everything, from the disaster of the meeting, to the bar fight with a douche bag, and this exact moment where his heart sank down into his stomach.

Maybe his father was right, these people didn't help themselves. Instead she was just ruining herself further. Either by pregnancy or disease, or any number of other problems. All for a bit of cash probably to be blown on her drug of choice, or maybe a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes.

Somehow he ended up back at his flat and he slammed the door shut a little too roughly behind him. The alcohol in his system was still there. But now, instead of gracefully blurred edges there was just a heavy anger that grew. He kicked his shoes off, toeing them carefully into place, but before he gets any further into his nightly routine he stops in the kitchen, just to prepare himself just one more nightcap. He needed something to take off the unbearable edge of this day.

One glass of scotch turns into just one more and then he tops that one off just a little bit. He should know better, doing this particular dance with this particular devil. But the fuzzy warmth that radiates through him and makes it easy to forget about shared coats and cups of coffee and sickly sounding coughs is all it takes for him to stop caring about his erroneous choice. None of it mattered anyway, he decides. All of this was just a stupid form of rebellion brought about by his own feelings of insignificance.

Well fuck making a difference, he decides. If no one else in this damn city cared about feeding the hungry why should he? One too small, too harsh girl hardly made any difference at all. He was meant to be a business man and business men looked out for one thing. Themselves.

The dull thud of a hangover headache was surprisingly sharp first thing in the morning. One might thing all of that alcohol might allow for even the slightest lapses in memory. Unfortunately the whole shitty day was still very much in his mind, just as he was still very much in his work clothes from yesterday.

He groans as he realises that he's also late to work already. Let craptastic day two begin, by all means.

During his shower he decides firmly that he is staying away from Tris and her entire city block throughout the foreseeable future. He was not going to be mixing himself up into nonsense like that anymore. He'd continue to carry out the charity project. The most prominent being the selfish reason being that he wanted to save face and follow through even though his father had expressed his disapproval to the entire team; or perhaps because he had done so. Also because he knew it was the right thing and to cancel helping hundreds of people because he'd meddled himself stupidly with one was hardly reasonable.

He reiterates the fact that his previous path of choice to work was no longer an option while he drinks a cup of coffee. Either he was delaying showing up to work late, therefore just making him that much later, or he was allowing himself the chance to build his resolve.

He buttons his coat slowly, taking his time on each button, and waits patiently for the elevator. When he walks outside the bitter cold barely even registers as he strolls off down the road far less travelled.

The following days all came without event. The weather stayed cold, the office stayed stale, and his determination wavered daily. By the time he'd left work on Friday he was fairly certain he might be going mildly insane. The inner debate on which way to walk home was one he battled with each morning and night and, quite frankly, it had grown a bit old.

So Friday he walks home and pretends that he has no intention of walking past that damned street corner. In fact, he attempts to fool himself so far as to feign surprise when he takes a "wrong turn."

To be honest he just needed to check on her. All he had to do was walk by, validate she was there, and then he could move on for good. After a week of discussing statistics of death of the homeless, along with their jail rate, Tobias just couldn't shake the feeling of cold fear that kept washing over him.

The real question, he thought to himself, was what he would do if she wasn't there. What was there to do? Call the police and tell them a homeless girl was missing from her usual spot on the sidewalk? Or maybe he could just have his company start their next charity event in looking for the obscurely missing. The shit he got himself into sometimes…

He was insistent he wouldn't stop walking. He barely would even slow down. Just glance over, find her, and keep going.

Of course, that was all another lie.

Instead he doesn't see her at first and is caught in a blind panic. By now it's been five days. She's probably halfway to Vietnam. Or buried in the creep's backyard. He should have just followed her from the beginning. He could have paid her twice as much just to not go with that guy.

When he does see her it's such a relief that he doesn't register anything else aside from his giant coat on her too small body.

At this point he knows he should just turn around and keep walking. He has his answer. But if he's learned nothing else about himself as of recent, it would have to be his utter lack of self-restraint.

It's not until she's only a few feet away from him that he realises something is very wrong.

She's curled up on the ground, arms wrapped tight around her knees as she hugs them closely to her body. Were it not for the raucous round of coughs as he approaches he might just think that she's cold. The closer he gets, the more unwell he can tell she is.

"Tris," he asks quietly as he approaches and kneels next to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she murmurs, not even moving to look at him. Sitting this close to her he can hear the effort it's taking her to breathe in each breath.

Although he knows it shouldn't, worry hits him hard. His hand reaches toward her forehead and he brushes her hair aside as he presses his palm against it. "Fuck, you're burning hot."

She groans in protest, perhaps still attempting to prove that she's fine. "I'm just a little sick," she says, her voice raspy and tired. "Remember, it's an occupational hazard."

He watches her for a moment before answering. "This isn't just some cold." He stands up and turns away from her, running his hands through his hair. What was he supposed to do now? Anyone could look at her and figure that her odds weren't very good. Even if her body could recover from whatever she has, he honestly doubted if she would make it through the night. After all, don't you hear about it all the time? The homeless out in too cold weather, fall asleep and die of hypothermia.

He couldn't very well just leave her here to die. But what other options did that leave him with? Take her to a hospital where she'll receive a very expensive bill and be seen and discharged as quickly as possible? Take her to a shelter only to be crammed into a corner of other sickly people?

"Alright, c'mon," he says, bending over to offer her his hand. She doesn't move. "Tris, let's go."

"I don't want stupid coffee," she comments and he sighs.

He wasn't sure how to say this without sounding crazy. "You can't stay here," he tells her gently. "You're really sick."

Finally, slowly, she sits herself up, seemingly with a tremendous amount of effort. She leans back against the wall behind her and breathes slowly but deeply. At least she attempts to. "I've been worse off before," she promises him and her attempt at a smile would be more promising if her lips weren't an eerie shade of purple.

"I'm not…" he sighs and reclaims his resolve. "I can't just leave you out here. Not like this."

"You didn't have any problem leaving me in even colder temperatures just last week," she counters.

She has a point. But why was she fighting him? No matter where he might be taking her, surely she knew it would be better than this. "You didn't look near death then."

"I don't need more of your pity."

He stares at her, anger increasing as he does. Can't he do one goddamn good thing without the whole world being against him? "I'm not," he sighs and lowers his voice. "I don't just pity you, Tris. You're my friend and I couldn't just walk away knowing how sick you are right now."

Her tenacity keeps her quiet a bit longer, but she at least has the decency to lower her gaze. She wasn't holding up a very good case as she coughed roughly once again. "Okay," she consents. "Let's go."


	8. Stupid

**Hello all again! Next chapter and this one is another doozy. Like I said, things are starting to move along and I'm excited about it. Please let me know what you think as this chapter is pretty big progression for our characters. Thank you for all of you support! **

He knows what a stupid choice he's made before she's even standing up. This was not just unusual, but entirely weird. He hardly knew her for Christ's sake! And vice versa, for that matter. How he even managed to convince her to come was still beyond his understanding. Surely she must be terribly desperate.

Both of them are silent as they walk. The progress is slow. Tris is clearly having trouble breathing and he stops frequently to give her a chance to catch her breath. The air stings but the waves of anxiety keep him warm. Tris crosses her arm. Defensive or cold, Tobias isn't sure which.

He bites his tongue to keep from saying anything. A hospital seems like where she should really be going, but he knows the odds of that are slim. He has so much to say, many questions that he feels he should be asking too. All he can think to do though is walk alongside her slowly and do his best not to make her feel as though she's being led to her death.

When they reach his building the doorman holds the door for both of them as Tobias hops up the stairs in quick, languid steps.

Tris is frozen at the bottom, staring in awe or fear or perhaps both. He'd never really considered how intimidating his building might look, not until he saw it through Tris's eyes. Tall and luxurious, it does look a bit more like The Plaza than someone's home. She looks mildly terrified. To make matters worse, her eyes fleet to the man holding the door and then she looks down at herself, hugging Tobias's coat tightly to attempt and hide the obvious. Tobias frowns when he sees the look she's being shot. "She's with me," he insists with a tone he hopes is authoritative. He walks back down the stairs and this time holds his arm out, extending the invitation for her to go first.

He thinks it's brave, how she wraps her arm around his lightly and lets him lead her. Not because she's allowing some stranger to lead him into his too fancy home, but because she is surely aware of the judgement being passed on her and she continues anyway. Once again he is commending her for doing something which he doubts himself capable of.

Due to the late hour the lobby and elevators are thankfully empty. They both step in and she says nothing, though her eyebrows do raise, when he presses the button for the top floor. Did she regret coming yet, he wondered. Had he simply pulled her into a place so unfamiliar to her that she could feel nothing but uncomfortable?

When they step off Tobias unlocks the door and lets it swing wide to expose his foyer. "Home sweet home," he mutters with a shrug. He felt so silly, living in a land of luxury whilst his guest lived off the scraps of the streets.

She steps in slowly, obviously eyeing the space with incredulity. She clears her throat and says, "You failed to mention that you live in the ritz."

"My dad's idea," he says like that explains everything. Of course he hadn't mentioned that. It'd be like bragging of your health to someone with terminal cancer.

For a moment they both merely stand there awkwardly. Then Tobias finally moves to shut the door and, in his usual routine, kicks off his shoes before toeing them perfectly into place. He takes a step toward her and she starts to step back before planting herself back into place.

"I-I can't give you anything," she whispers to the floor and, just like the first time they met all those weeks ago when he handed her his coat he knows exactly what she is referring to.

"I hope you know I'd never ask that of you." Her gaze flickers to his and she flashes the briefest of smiles to him. "Why don't you take a shower and I'll make some tea and something to eat, okay?"

Just from being some place warm he can already see the small improvements in her. The way her shoulders finally relax and the crease between her brows fades. She's still scarily pale though.

He walks back to the bathroom and she follows slowly. "Here's a towel you can use, and a wash cloth." He hands them over to her and tries to think of what else she may need. "I don't have much in terms of shampoo and stuff, but it cleans hair at least."

She nods, hugging the towels closely to her body. "Take as long as you want I'll have stuff ready for you when you're done, okay?"

She doesn't respond and he chocks it up to a bit of shock coupled with uncertainty. So he smiles at her before turning to walk away. "Tobias," she says and he turns back. "I don't even know how to thank-"

He holds his hand up. "Don't worry about it. I'm…glad you're here." And he finds that he really is. Be it the guilt that suddenly seems to be fading or the concern that melts off of his shoulders, he's glad to finally help her in a substantial way.

"I won't impose for long," she promises; eyes wide with her sincerity. "I'm sure some sleep and I'll be feeling much better."

Considering she looked dead on her feet, Tobias somewhat doubted that. "It's fine, Tris." She smiles shyly and then turns and closes the bathroom door behind her. He hears the lock turn a mere second later.

That's when the panic sets in.

What the fuck was he _thinking? _Was he completely out of his goddamned mind? Maybe he'd finally had a psychotic break and he was committing the strongest form of rebellion against his father he could think of. Or perhaps he really needed a girlfriend. It had been a while.

What he did know was that he was quite possibly insane. Because you don't _do _this. This is not a thing that is acceptable in anyone's society. People who did this were serial killers and rapists and weirdoes who needed to find a real hobby. No one would listen to this and just think, oh yes, logically he invited her home with him.

He'd had all of, what, six conversations with her? He didn't even know her last name! It was crazy. Yet it felt right. This wasn't just helping the unfortunate. He had meant what he'd said to her. This was helping out a friend. He wanted her to be his friend.

So he sets about making tea and boiling water for soup. He also scours through his shelf of medicine, looking for something that might help her. It was astounding how much expired medication he had managed to gather over the years. He's reading the back of an amoxicillin bottle when she says, "Hey" from behind him. He turns to find her in nothing but a towel.

Sputtering, he tries not to stare and instead turns to face the stove, pretending to tend to the pot of water. "Sorry," she says. "I was wondering if maybe I could borrow something to wear? My stuff isn't exactly clean…" She trails off, staring at the floor awkwardly as she simultaneously pulls her towel a little tighter.

"Of course!" he says a little too enthusiastically and heads for his room. "I won't have anything that'll really fit you but something is sure to work." He roots through his drawers, trying to calm his frazzled nerves. There was something particularly unnerving about seeing a girl you barely know in hardly any clothing.

In an attempt to keep her from having to swim through fabric, Tobias tries to find his smallest stuff to give to her. He knew he'd been saving that T-shirt from freshman year of high school for something.

He looks up to find her standing in the doorway and she just stares at him as he looks at her, attempting a smile that was more awkward than anything else. She was quite lovely, all cleaned up this way. Her hair hung limp and wet down her shoulders and her skin were the pink of being newly scrubbed. And she had cute toes, stubby and round.

She bites her lip and clears her throat which pulls him back to reality and away from her toes. He can feel the heat that rushes to his cheeks from having been caught staring, and he tries to play it off and just pretend his cheeks weren't getting increasingly red. "Hopefully these will fit you alright."

"Thank you," she says and disappears back into the bathroom. He releases a heavy breath and tries to ignore what just happened.

Back in the kitchen he dumps in the soup powder and noodles and pours hot water over the tea bags in both cups. Tris walks back out, his T-shirt fitting her tiny frame like an off the shoulder dress and his long pants dragging along the floor. Despite all of that and the pallor of her face he still thinks she's never looked better.

But then that awful, wet cough starts again and he's instantly worried. "You really don't sound good," he tells her and she shrugs.

"This is the best I've felt in ages though." The statement fills him with a glow of pride, so pleased that he was the one to do that for her. "It smells good in here." She walks to the island and stands behind it, leaning against it as she places her elbows on the counter top and cups her chin in her hands. She looked tired.

"Thanks, you have the fantastic chefs at Lipton to thank for that." He holds the soup mix box up in example. "This is for you," he says as he hands her a cup of tea and two pills. "I don't have a whole lot for your cough or anything, but this is just Motrin. You know, for your fever and all. I'll pick something up at the store tomorrow."

She takes the pills and immediately sets them down but she drinks the tea gratefully. "You don't have to do that," she tells him before taking another long sip. "This is delicious."

He smiles and places a bowl of soup in front of her before walking around and sitting down with his own. "Careful," he tries to warn as she immediately starts to eat it. "It's going to be hot."

She shrugs and keeps taking heaping bites, blowing on them to cool for a second maybe. Eventually she pauses as she's forced to whilst her coughs take over. "You sound awful," he says once she's finally stopped. "I was thinking, maybe tomorrow we should go to the hospital."

She freezes spoon halfway to her mouth before setting it back down. "No," she says firmly. "I'm not going to the hospital." He opens his mouth to respond but she holds her hand up to stop him. "Please don't argue. It's not an option."

They both go back to eating quietly, the only sound filling the room is metal clinking against the glass bowls.

"You know, this is the first time I've used real dishes in a month." His need for dishes was relatively limited. Paper plates generally worked just as well when it came to holding reheated pizza or Rice-A-Roni. "It's nice having someone to eat with."

Tris snorts, "As though I'm company."

He looks at her carefully. So much more than a girl on the streets, he can't help but think. It was his own fault for always noting that superficial layer and little else. "I don't think you have a choice in that," he says, smiling slowly. "I'm abusing my power as apartment leaser and deeming you a guest whether you like it or not."

She laughs and rolls her eyes, her tongue darts out to lick her lips as she smiles back at him. "Doesn't take a whole lot to get you on a power trip, does it?"

"Nope, I'll seize every opportunity I can," he tells her, his hand resting on the counter top right next to hers. He watches the way her eyes close as she giggles lightly in response. She opens her mouth to respond when she has to turn away to cough over and over into the crook of her elbow. When she turns back to her soup her face is red and she's breathing heavily.

He watches her carefully. "Tris?"

She shakes her head at him. "I'm fine," she dismisses before he can even ask. "So," she says and clears her throat, putting the playful tone back in her voice. "How does someone such as yourself manage to obtain such a shwanky space?"

"Hm," he answers. "What are your theories?"

She seems to think for a moment, taking another long draw of tea. "Well the obvious of course is that your parents are on vacation. But less obvious answers include drug dealer, inheritance, or pimp."

"You caught me," he tells her with his hands in the air, feigning surrender. "I'm a pimp."

"As your wardrobe suggests," she says.

He glares at her. "I'll have you know these are top of the line suits."

"I'm sure," she answers and he sees her glance around his apartment again. She's probably taking in the fancy chandelier over the cherry wood dining room table, or his giant flat screen TV. Of course the fireplace would probably draw in a decent amount of attention, as would the hardwood floors, and stainless steel appliances. "Really though. How do you live here?"

"Unfortunately you were pretty close. I don't live with my dad, but he does pay for it." He's never had to tell anyone that before and he realises just how much he resents the admission. "Which sounds pretty sad, actually."

If Tris thinks so she doesn't show it. "Nah, it sounds nice." It did sound nice, he thinks, but it was far less about being nice and much more about the control it held him under. "So is he a prestigious surgeon or like a senator or something?"

Her eyes are alight at the thought. It must be a nice idea, having rich parents. "More like a business man from hell."

"Ah, a business man," she laments. "That explains the pimp suits." He laughs and can't help himself as he smiles widely in her direction. Despite all of the draw he'd felt toward her, never had he expected to actually enjoy her company this thoroughly. It wasn't like he was a complete loaner. He had friends, sort of…on Facebook. And he'd had girlfriends, or at the very least he had no problem finding girls at bars to chat up. He knew he would probably have no issue getting them back to his place either.

The reality of the matter though, is that he couldn't remember the last time he had just sat and talked or joked with someone. Most of his conversations were about the weather around the proverbial water cooler. He'd come to think of himself as a solitary character but was coming to the realisation that perhaps he really was quite lonely. The presence of someone else in his life was refreshing.

One look at her reminds him of the circumstances at hand however. She was a girl from the streets. On top of that she was ill. He was here to help her get better, give her a warm bed for the night and overall be a good person. He was not supposed to be in this for himself. How selfish to take in someone who needs a place to stay in order to make it through the night and then turn her into his piece of entertainment. Not to mention how sad that instead of buying her body he was buying her friendship.

"You okay?" she asks and he finds himself surprised, actually forgetting that she was here next to him; observing, noticing, and, most importantly, evaluating.

He nods as he swallows the far too hot, far too big, spoonful of soup he'd put in his mouth in an attempt of normalcy. "Just thinking," he says.

The quiet of the moment is broken as her lungs once again betray her and she coughs violently. After she tries her best to take a deep breath but just starts up all over again. He looks on with worry, hands running through his hair. "Can you even breathe okay?" he asks after she stops.

Her nod in response would be much more convincing were she not wheezing the whole time. "I think just a good night's rest is all I need." Her attempt at persuading him to believe this is almost humorous.

"Of course," he says anyway, getting up quickly and walking into his room. "I'll just put on some clean sheets really quick," he calls back out to the kitchen.

He finds her standing in the door way, mug still in hand and his shirt hanging off of her body. She fit so much better in this picture, the one of comfortable domesticity, than her usual. Surely she once lived in a home such as this. Not that he generally tended to think of this place as his home. "No, please don't give up your bed for me too," she begs.

"I insist," he says, pulling off the comforter and pillows from the unmade bed and throwing them on the floor. He knew he had to have a spare pair of sheets _somewhere_. Even if he did have a tendency to wash his sheets and then put them right back. Streamline the process, logically. "Really, I sleep out on the couch all the time anyway."

She bites her lip, looking uncertain as he opens and closes drawer after drawer. "I just wouldn't feel comfortable-"

"Neither would I," he says, pausing in his search to meet her eye. "Gonna pull the home owner card again. My guest sleeps in a bed."

Tris rolls her eyes. "Can't pull the homeowner card if you don't own a home," she counters, picking one of the smaller pillows off of the floor and lopping it at him.

He can't help but hang his mouth in shock at her and she laughs at him. "Sorry," she mutters, although she's still giggling. He can't help but join in.

"Careful or it'll be out on the streets with you," he says, laughing for half a second longer before he realises what he's just said. Shit.

The look on her face is frozen in shock for a moment before she can answer. "Would hardly be anything new." She smiles tightly back at him, trying to show it was okay. He knew better though of course.

The moment was gone and the humour from the room absorbed completely into the tension. Tobias quickly put the sheets on with some of Tris's assistance and then thanked her quietly, reminding her of where the bathroom and kitchen were, should she need anything.

"Thanks," she replies and nods her head once at him. She looks dead on her feet but the sincerity still shines through. "I really appre-"

"Don't mention it," Tobias says as he holds up his hand. "Listen I didn't mean what I said earlier. It was just-"

"It's okay," Tris interrupts. "I'm hardly offended." He didn't buy that for a second but was appreciative none the less. He could hardly feel like more of a jackass unfortunately.

"Well goodnight then," he says, stalling in the doorway that she still stood in, standing across from her. This close he could smell his shampoo wafting from the top her head and it made him smile. "Sleep well," he says quietly. Her eyes flickered up to meet his and she stared up in silence at him for a moment.

With her mouth slightly open she quietly holds his gaze a moment longer before nodding once and stepping away, into the room. "Thanks, you too."

And with that he closes the door lightly behind him and falls onto the couch in slight horror. "What am I doing?"


	9. Rejection

**All I can say is wow. The response to my last chapter was incredible, and I have Windchimed to thank for that for giving my story a shout out. Thank you, as well, to everyone who's taken the time out to read my humble little story, and I hope you continue to enjoy it. I can't express how lovely it was to receive such a positive response from all of you and I do hope I do not disappoint. Up until this point the story was unfolding exactly as I anticipated it would. However, this chapter was insistent for something different than what I originally planned and I hope it works out the way I think it will.**

**Next update should be on Tuesday! Another big thank you to Windchimed and everyone else. I hope you enjoy!**

Normally, Tobias was a heavy sleeper. Not much had a chance of waking him. Today though, between the uncomfortable leather couch sticking to his cheek and the light shining in through the windows, not to mention the continuous hacking that came from the other room, he didn't stand much of a chance of sleeping past seven.

He sighs, getting up and stretching widely as he rubs his eyes. The last night hits him in a blur and the memories cause him to sit a little straighter. Glancing around, he momentarily expects the room to be cleared out and himself to be the only one there. Everything looked just the same however, and he hears a wet cough coming from the other room that reassures him he is very much not alone.

He takes the time to pull his socks back onto his feet in an attempt to keep the cool hardwood floor from giving him chills. Even though Tobias knows he's doing nothing wrong, he still tiptoes to his bedroom door and holds his breath as he cracks it. He feels like he's spying on her, but there isn't much to spy on considering she is just a disarray of hair underneath a jumble of blankets and pillows.

It'd be quite the humorous scene were it not for the fact that he could hear her wheeze with each inhale. He felt reassured that she was still asleep. She needed it, no doubt.

To take advantage of the situation, Tobias shoves his feet into his shoes and scribbles Tris a quick note, just in case, before wrapping his coat around him tightly and venturing outside. Normally he didn't leave his house until he'd brushed his teeth and ingested some form of caffeine. Today, however, was a special scenario.

Even the doorman notices as he walks out. "Awfully early on a Saturday for you, isn't it, Mr. Eaton?" he asks and although Tobias has no indication other than his own intuition, he notes a tone of condescension. He wonders if it is in judgement of Tris. It wasn't as though he cared about the doorman's approval. However, he certainly hoped no one would think so lowly of him to assume he would take advantage of a person like that. In retrospect though, what else should the doorman be thinking of him?

The cold streets of a Saturday morning are somehow completely different from that of a Monday morning or even a Friday evening. On Mondays people walk in packs, a herd of animals with heads down and headphones in, whilst the world is tuned out. They bundle in their grey, professional business coats and carry large mugs of hot coffee. No one smiles, no one says hello; you're lucky if someone holds the door for you.

Fridays are when high heels are on and hands are held. Smiles are shared just between two or among a group of friends. The girls either give you dirty looks for glancing at them or huff away because you didn't. The alcohol that starts around eight and carries throughout the night makes everyone warmer, nicer. There's still a distance though, between those who are going out and those who are walking home. The couples keep close together, blocking out everyone else, and the groups are selectively open, happy to let the Brad Pitt lookalike to come join them but effectively turning away anything less.

Saturday mornings, it turns out, are for the people who seemingly enjoy life. These are for the joggers who wear their hot pink jackets and neon orange hats. They smile at everyone who they pass, and their small puffs of breath crystallise right in front you, letting themselves and the whole world know they are working hard. It's when you find the families with baby strollers and peppy little four year olds, running around in tutus they were permitted to wear out of the house whilst the baby happily shovels animal crackers into his mouth. You find the people in the city who still have a minute to spare, as they greet you with a smile and a, "How you doing?"

Tobias is so surprised to walk out his front door and into this world that he's momentarily concerned he's entered some alternate universe. The nodding and the smiling and the bagel eating were all so foreign to the strictly 9-5 office man. So when he tries to make his trek to CVS he finds it much harder to watch the cracks in the sidewalk and hurry out of the way of others. He even dares to smile at a few people as they pass by him.

The 24 hour pharmacy is not quite so exuberant in their Saturday morning cheer. The still remaining overnight employees grunt in greeting as the few other customers peruse the aisles with that look people always seem to wear when they're sick, like their mouths are stuck slightly open and their eyes just can't stay open.

Tobias navigates around them as he bypasses the brightly coloured feminine care aisle along with the anti-acids. His best guess is to browse through cold/flu and hope for the best. That's probably what she had, right? Flu like symptoms included things like coughing and fever. Or maybe she had bronchitis. You could treat bronchitis with flu medicine couldn't you? It was all one and the same in his mind.

He's not really certain so his plan of action mainly includes picking things up, reading a short bit about them, finding the words cough and sore throat, and then throwing them in the basket. Robitussin, Mucinex, cough drops, Nyquil, Dayquil, Qlearquil, whatever the fuck that was. Vicks Vapor rub even, which Tobias faintly recalled having his mother rub all over his chest when he was younger. Anything that looked slightly helpful he tossed it in and hoped for the best. Down the food aisle he bypassed the bags of donuts and grabbed the boxed soups and some tea that claimed to help open airways.

His basket was practically full by the time he set it on the checkout counter and the half-asleep cashier eyes him sleepily before scanning each item as slowly as possible. His newfound Saturday morning patience was not good enough for this.

After that he tries to go into the Old Navy that he hadn't once entered in his entire life, but found that it would be closed for several more hours still. So he walked back home with what he had.

It was only as he was rounding the corner of his block and nodding at the newly present doorman, who may or may not have been informed of Tobias's theoretical promiscuous actions last night, that he realises he has just left a homeless girl alone in his very luxurious, very rich home. A home filled to the brim with steal-able items. The thought should probably worry him more than it does. Honestly he wouldn't mind if she pawned his TV and iPad. It'd probably do her way more good than it did him. 

He decides in the elevator that he has officially lost it.

Part of him is expecting the front door to be swinging wide open and half of his stuff to be gone, but when he reaches the top floor the door is still locked. He opens it to everything just as it was before. Had he not of known better he would assume the place empty. Setting the bags down on the counter he makes his way to the bedroom again, cracking the door.

Tobias isn't sure if he should consider it relief, but that's what it feels like when he sees her sleeping peacefully. He closes the door and steps away, confused about what happens next.

Not just now, but in general. He'd make breakfast sure, but what about after that? How long was he supposed to let her stay? How long did he want her to stay? It wasn't like he could just send her back out to the streets, knowingly. What if she stayed sick? He'd have to take her to the hospital. A bill he'd have to pay, which his father would see and certainly have quite a few questions about.

Taking in someone in need is a good idea in theory. Tobias had found that all of the blurred lines that followed spoiled the original thought. One of these days he'd get something right.

Today, he started by prepping breakfast and hoping for the best.

Tobias had no shame in admitting the fact that his cooking skills were less than that of a lizard. Regardless, he still made tea again and followed the directions on the oatmeal as closely as possible. Honestly he was still just surprised that he even had oatmeal.

Much like last night he turns around to find Tris, still in his far too large clothes, walking toward him. To say she looked haggard would probably be the most fitting, however unfair. The smile that spreads along his face is genuine. He's relieved to not feel the same awkwardness he had last night after making his stupid comment. "Good morning," he says in a bit too chipper voice.

"Morning," she answers, voice still heavy and clogged with sleep. She clears her throat as Tobias switches off the burner before grabbing the white CVS bag and over turning it on the island in front of her, its contents spilling everywhere in front of her. Eight different kinds of cough medicine didn't seem excessive until you really thought about it, apparently. "What…" she says quietly before fading off.

He then places a cup of tea in front of her and turns to start serving the oatmeal. "You're never going to get any better if you don't at least take something."

"You got me a lot of somethings," she says, holding up the box of Mucinex and the bottle of Nyquil. "Are you trying to heal me or drug me?"

"Damn," he says, his smile facetious. "You've caught me."

She laughs before gathering all of the medicines and placing them all back in the bag. "I can't accept this," she tells him and Tobias can't help when his face falls. Once again, he'd tried to do the kind thing and he was probably just freaking her out further.

"You need to," he tells her, trying to regain his confidence. She opens her mouth to argue but he beats her to it. "Either take the medicine or I'll drag you to the hospital."

Tris looks like she has quite a lot to say to him but she just presses her lips together and takes the bag off of the counter. "After breakfast," she consents quietly as she dumps the bag in his room and comes back to sit on the same bar stool from last night. "And thank you," she tells him. Despite her awkwardness he could still hear the sincerity.

"Well, you do sound like a ninety year old asthmatic with COPD," he tells her. "How'd you sleep?"

Tris shrugs, and then shakes her head before smiling. "Amazing," she says and her face holds so much joy Tobias finally feels like maybe he's done the right thing. Despite of it being weird and untraditional, maybe it was just what needed to be done.

The oatmeal doesn't look particularly appealing, but that doesn't stop him from making them both a serving and sitting himself next to her. "Unfortunately, the majority of your food while you're here is probably going to include things that involve adding water and putting in a pot."

"I've noticed that trend," she tells him but takes a heaping bite regardless.

Tobias, however, is immediately turned off by the bland flavour and the texture that suggested he'd undoubtedly overcooked it, or maybe undercooked. Regardless, it wasn't cooked properly. He kind of twirls his spoon around in it to pretend like he was eating, feeling awkward otherwise. Honestly, he'd probably just eat some leftover pizza he had tucked away in the fridge later.

"I really appreciate all of this," Tris tells him, taking another big bite before she continues, effectively cutting him off. "But I think I should probably head out soon."

Soon? What did soon even mean? That's all Tobias really manages to think as he leaves his spoon to rest in his still full bowl in order to stare at her in silence. "What-why?" he asks.

"As nice as all of this is, Tobias, I don't belong here," she tells him like that clears everything up. "Look, you seem like a really nice guy and I can't thank you enough for everything but…don't you get it?"

His blank stare should be answer enough. "No, I don't actually."

"I can't thank you enough. Not ever can I repay you or offer you anything in return, and it just doesn't feel right, staying here in this big fancy place."

"I don't want anything in return. I told you that!" Tobias hates himself. He hates the way his heart is beating too fast and his palms are sweaty and how, instead of just hoping his father would leave, he really needed this girl to stay. "Let me help you get back on your feet. Just a few weeks to give you a chance to get a job and maybe an apartment or something." Optimistic, he knew, especially considering she probably didn't have a diploma or a squeaky clean record. He did have a pretty powerful name though.

"It's not that easy," she argues, hanging her head in defeat. "I wish this was all that easy, but it's not and I'm not about to pull you into it."

The red flags go up right then. "Are you in trouble, Tris?" he asks, lowering his voice even though there was no one else around. "I can help with that too."

She's about to respond when she doubles over, coughing and hacking and seemingly unable to breathe. She clutches her chest and as soon as she stops and tries to take a deep breath, it all starts again.

Tobias's hands have a life of their own as they reach out, one hand on her back and the other on her upper arm, supporting her as she fought to breathe. When she stops for a minute he doesn't bother to ask again if she's okay. "You think I'm just going to send you out on the streets like this?" He wants to add, that to be on the streets like this was essentially signing a death sentence.

"You can't fix me!" she yells, backing out of her seat and away from his hands. She knocks the chair over as she gets up and it falls to the floor in a deafening bang. Tobias flinches involuntarily. "Listen, I have issues, and they're big ones. You need to keep your distance and if you're really so insistent on not forcing me into anything then you won't manipulate me into staying."

Her words are harsh. Force and manipulate are the sort of words you hear in stories of rape. He couldn't let Tris think she was subjected to that sort of treatment. "Of course you can do whatever it is you want," he says softly, resting his hands on the countertop as a show of submission. "But don't leave because you're trying to save me trouble. I have shit too, you know. I hardly expected your life to be perfection."

"I know," she nods. "But I still can't stay. I'm sorry."

When she walks away to his room to gather her belongings, all Tobias can think of is a father who wants nothing to do with him, a mother who died, friends who don't understand, and even a girl on the streets who has turned him down.

It's funny. No matter how many times he gets rejected, it still fucking sucks.


	10. Algebra

**Hello all! Once again, a big thank you to everyone reviewing and messaging. Such positive feedback! This chapter doesn't necessarily contain huge amounts of plot progression, but I do believe character progression is also important. I hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think!**

Tris was insistent on leaving right after their conversation. Tobias asked her to stay at least long enough for him to wash her clothes. She declined

He watches from the doorway as she gathers her clothes that she had piled in the corner of the room. She pulls her shoe from under the bed and scoops up the bag of medicine off the floor and sets it on the corner of the bed. He stands there watching, not really knowing what he's expecting to happen. Her eyes meet his as she walks to the door and gently shuts it in front of him, leaving him standing on the other side. Tobias sighs and walks away, knowing she's just taking off the clothes he's given her and returning to the ones she came here in.

Tris stands in the entryway, right next to his carefully placed shoes and smiles graciously at him. How stupid that he felt like he was being broken up with. Perhaps it was a bit like that. Clearly she had seen something in him she did not like.

"Thank you," she says again. "I really do appreciate everything."

Tobias smiles back at her. "It's no problem, Tris." Then he reaches around her and opens the door wide, allowing her chance to escape. She nods in his direction one more time before turning away and walking out the door. "Hey, wait!" he calls even though she's only five feet away.

"Yes?" she asks him, one eyebrow raised.

"Just…if you ever need something you can come back, you know?" God, _what _was he doing? It was bad enough that he brought her back here in the first place. For all he knew she could show back up when he was at work and rob him or cook meth on his stove or invite all of her street friends with her. But he just keeps inviting her back. It was embarrassing, really, a sadly desperate invitation. "Like if you need a place to crash or something to eat, don't be a stranger."

Tris immediately looks prepared to shoot his offer down. She opens her mouth but freezes before any words escape. "That is very kind," she tells him.

Tobias can't help but think of a freezing cold night when he'd decided to take his coat off his back in order to be one thing, kind. Was that his only reason for doing these things now?

"And hey," she adds, turning back around again. "You don't be too much of a stranger either. I do still enjoy coffee." He smiles at that and fights the urge to hug her. Tobias couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged somebody.

"Take care," he tells her and she smiles his way one last time before turning and walking toward the elevator. Tobias shuts the door and kicks those damn perfect shoes aside. Why bother keeping up all these appearances?

Perhaps Tobias should have given his dad a bit more credit. He had never realised just how difficult it is to create a project when most everyone is against you. Either you know they don't agree with what you're planning, or you're worried they are being nice to your face but secretly hate it as well. It's a bit like being back in high school.

Tobias had never been much of a leader so the concept of getting all of these people on board with something they're completely opposed to was a bit overwhelming, to say the least. He remembered his father doing these very same things. Tobias would wake up in the morning for school and have nowhere to sit at the table while eating his cereal because his father would have papers everywhere. He'd quote statistics and use Tobias as a sounding board even. His father knew how to rally an entire team of people, until eventually, he was rallying the whole office.

Tobias wasn't really sure if he had that sort of drive or ability to rally just the fifteen people needed for this project. Admittedly there were a few who did seem genuinely interested Monday morning. Particularly, Christina.

"Mr. Eaton!" He'd heard her call and thought little of it. Usually when people were yelling Mr. Eaton out it was not to get his attention. But then he feels her hand on his arm and turns in surprise. "Sorry, sir," she says, smiling like she didn't even know why. "I just wanted to talk so we can get a bit more organised on this thing."

"Oh, yeah," he says with a shrug. "We can have a meeting or something later this week."

Christina rolls her eyes at him and gives a slight shake of her head. "Yeah meetings are good and all, but don't you think you and I should sit down and talk strategy, figure out what exactly we're doing and where we're going?"

"Uh," he says. "I guess?" Were they going to war or feeding the homeless? Did they really need a strategy plan and a map of desired regions for this sort of thing?

She smiles widely again and waves for him to follow as she turns and walks away. "Well come on then, we can start in my office."

It was all a bit strange; having this woman lead him to her office that he didn't even really know existed. A part of him is near certain that he's going to walk into one of those giant maps you see in Game of Thrones with little clay pieces placed all over to indicate armies. Thankfully it's more like scattered papers and the scent of cinnamon apples.

Her space is small. The desk takes up the most space and she has to turn sideways to walk to the other side of it and sit down. She has, for whatever reason, brought her own lamps into work and the fluorescents are shut off. Overall, despite how crammed and messy it is, Tobias surprisingly finds it quite calming.

"Please, sit," she tells him as she sits in her own chair and begins shuffling through papers while her computer boots up. "Also, please don't tell your father how messy my office is. One time I left a cup in the break room upstairs and I thought he might blow a gasket because of it. Seems like the neat and tidy type, if you ask me."

"Neat and tidy is one way to describe him," Tobias says without a hint of humour. Even after his little shoe kicking tantrum he'd had yesterday morning he could only go one hour before fixing them back into place. What an annoying habit he'd inherited. "But don't worry, I won't breathe a word."

The papers are continually shuffled as Christina says, "Thanks," and furrows her eyebrows. "Sorry, I know it's here somewhere." Tobias waves away her apology. Honestly, he was kind of jealous of this tiny little office tucked away in the corner of everything. He liked that there were no windows showing the tiny people rushing about on the streets below and that no one offered him juice the second he exited the elevator onto this floor. He also didn't mind the smell.

"How long have you worked here?" he asks, picking up one of her trinkets on her desk and turning it over. With all the clutter on her desk he wondered if she even knew it was there.

She does eye him though so he sets it carefully back on her desk. "Me? I'm here for a journalism internship."

"So you're a reporter?"

Christina shrugs, "Sorta, except not yet really. Specifically I'm a human rights journalism major which is why I'm heading this charity project."

Tobias' head spun a bit. All this school stuff sounded complicated. "But shouldn't you like, have a boss if you're just a student?"

She laughs at that. "One might think, but let's just say your father doesn't put a whole lot of stock in these charity events and would rather just pay me minimum wage and college credit than pay a social worker or someone to head all of this stuff."

Nodding like you know what is going on was usually Tobias's defence in these sorts of things. Not that he was stupid or didn't care, he just didn't tend to ask too many questions. "Well at least you're getting a lot of experience, right?"

"Exactly," she says with a wide smile. "Aha!" Christina holds the folder proudly in the air. "Ready to begin?"

It was only after two and a half hours of planning in a cramped, warm office that Tobias realised just how much effort it took to organise an event like this. Between gathering press involvement and deciding on safe areas as well as choosing the easiest to carry items, it was all getting a bit confusing; as was finding enough people to help man the hand outs when the only two people who cared were the ones sitting in that room.

Christina worked fast though. She could ask him a question and find the answer all in the same sentence. She'd start a thought and trail it so far off that Tobias didn't have a change of following it. He was kind of mesmerized by the whole thing. The way she thought and worked through everything out loud. It reminded him of the really smart kids in algebra class. They could start with a few letters and numbers and turn it into the standard deviation of -6. He was always jealous of those kids.

In another life he'd always wondered in what ways he would be different. If he was the son of a mathematician would he be one of those kids in Algebra class with all the answers? If his mother had been a violinist would he be a world renowned symphonist? Had both of his parents been heroin dealers would he be living on the streets too? Nature vs nurture was something so many scientists always questioned, but Tobias felt he had always known the answer. The way he was nurtured, or the lack thereof, had made him exactly who he is today. At least he thought so.

Perhaps that was why he was so jealous of people like Christina or the math kids. They could start and solve a problem all in one breath. All he could do was ask more damn questions.

Honestly, Tobias was slightly exhausted by the whole ordeal, and by the end of the night wanted nothing more than to go home and crash for the night. So when Christina finds him in the elevator that evening and invites him out to the pub he's ever so tempted to say no. Especially considering what happened the last time.

"Come on," she says. "It'll be fun, I swear. My boyfriend was supposed to go but he bailed on me for some dumb emergency book club or something."

Well she said she had a boyfriend so at least he knew she wasn't asking him out. "Emergency book club?" he asks with an incredulous tone.

"Not really but something to that effect. I just want a few shots of tequila and a night out for the hell of it."

"You do realise it's a Monday?" he asks, surprised to find her so eager. How did people have the energy to do this mid-week? He could barely pull it together on a weekend. Christina just nods in response as if to say, duh. "Alright, why not?" he says, because it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

Christina spends the walk there, college student=no car she explained to him, talking about their project together and asking him about where he got the idea. He lied.

When they get there Tobias starts with a beer but quickly moves on to scotch as she keeps talking about the damn homeless people and how considerate he was to come up with such a kind idea. "Can we just, talk about something else?" he finally asks after his third drink.

"Oh,sorry," she says, downing another shot. "Sometimes I forget that this stuff isn't all as bright and shiny to me as other people. Probably gets old after a few years."

Tobias is taken aback. "How old do you think I am?" He knows he sounds offended but he can't help it.

"I don't know." He stares at her to let her know just how much he wasn't accepting that answer. She smiles and steals his scotch for a swig before she answers. "Mid to late twenties?"

"Wh-you're kidding, right?" Her face suggests she isn't. "I'm only twenty!"

Christina's hand flies up to her mouth in exaggerated shock. "Nu-uh, you're drinking scotch in a bar for Christ's sake."

"Yeah," he shrugs. "They know I tip well." She shakes her head slowly like the light has just turned off and revealed the truth to her. "Do I really look that old?"

She shrugs again, "It's not really how you look. I mean, do twenty and twenty seven really look that different?"

"Jesus, twenty seven," he murmurs under his breath. He would drink to that.

"It's how you act, I guess."

Tobias considers that. What made him think people were older than him? Aside from grey hair and walkers, that is. "Do I complain about my eyesight a lot or something?"

She laughs, the kind of laugh that only comes with the lovely inhibition of alcohol. "No, like…you know." He raises his eyebrows to let her know that he doesn't. "You're…surly."

"The fuck does that even mean?" But then he finds that the alcohol bubbles in his system just right, and he can't help but laugh a little too. Surly, who the hell uses words like surly? Damn reporters, that's who.

"You grunt and gruff and…okay, look, when you walk," she stands up in front of him and slouches her shoulders. "You hunch your shoulders and always have this really pissed off look on your face if someone looks at you for too long."

Watching her Tobias can't deny that her stance does look vaguely familiar. "Well shit, sure wish someone would've told me I looked like such a bastard."

Christina laughs. "Well the good news is people still like you better than your dad. Before this project at least they did." After a second what she just said registers on her face. "Oh my god, do not tell him I said that. Please."

His hand waves off her concern. "Trust me, nothing you say to me will be making it back to him."

"Not the happy father/son power couple you're supposed to be?" she says this as though she's already well aware.

"What do you think." Her eyes glimmer with the confirmation to her suspicions. "Don't go writing some report on that."

His finger points drunkenly in her face as a warning and she swats it away. "No one wants to read a paper about some dumbass CEO's relationship with his son. Hate to break it to you, Eaton, but you ain't that special."

"Tell me something I don't know." She smiles kindly while he knocks back another drink.

On his walk home the two paths mock him. He contemplates with himself, she probably won't even be there so what's the harm in walking by? As well as, just leave well enough alone, at least for a few days.

He felt like the puppy dog kicked to the curb who just wanted to follow his owner back home. The worst part was, he kept going on about this kindness thing and being a good person, and not one other homeless person did he feel the desire to drag home and feed soup.

It was Tris's own kindness that had drawn him in. But there was something else about her that kept him coming back. Be it her nerve or her sense of humour. She was the sort of person he could have seen himself being friends with in high school. And seeing as how currently his friend pool was about in the negative numbers, he wasn't being too picky.

Whatever it was, loneliness just kept catching up with him.

She wasn't there tonight anyway.


	11. Silence

**Hello again! I hope you all are well. Once again, a big thanks for all of the support. I'm interested to hear everyone's thoughts on a few different parts of this chapter. Overall, I hope you enjoy it even though it is a bit on the shorter side. Everyone enjoy your weekend and I'll see you again on Tuesday!**

With Tobais's energy focused elsewhere, he managed to keep his mind free of Tris almost entirely. Christina had assigned him plenty of homework and he hosted multiple meetings over the next few days. A few others had expressed interest, meaning very few older, more seasoned employees gave two shits, but the young lackeys were all gung ho. Probably thought this project would get them in with his father. Poor kids.

To say he hadn't considered her at all was ridiculous of course. After all, she'd inspired this project. His worry weighed heavily on him, especially in the night. He wasn't sure if the arsenal of medicine he'd supplied her with would be enough to get her well. But he told himself he'd move on, at least for a couple of days.

So on Friday night he goes out for drinks again with Christina, and this time her boyfriend, Will, joins them as well. He's a tall fellow, the picture of nerdy with his glasses and his bowtie that he wore to his editing job. Tobias had the joy of hearing their wonderful story of meeting in the PE class from hell and finding out they were both English majors. Apparently Will ended up getting shot down by the gym teacher so much he just dropped out entirely. Then they took classes together and fell in love forever. Good for them.

Will seemed cool, although just a tiny bit odd. At the office he introduced himself to everyone in the same exact manner. "I'm Will, nice to meet you," and a hand shake. Which is a plenty standard introduction, but such a rehearsed air made it all a bit strange. No one else seemed to care much though.

It was nice, going out and getting drinks with two people who at least pretended to like him. Although at some point they did seem to forget he was there as they giggled and kissed. Gross.

On Saturday he went to the gym, early in the morning, just for the hell of it. The doorman didn't waste his breath commenting this time. Tobias worked himself hard, like always. His physique wasn't something he worked on in vain, more like an added bonus. The tension in his muscles always seemed to escalate more from when he did a lot of desk work. His time at the punching bags helped work it out the best.

The girls on the treadmill always stared and he could swear to god some of them had started wearing makeup on the nights he routinely showed up. This morning, however, there was far more moms than the girls in their Victoria Secret sweats. He still noted stares.

When he left, the sheen of sweat made him shiver in the best way possible in the frigid air outside. He walked without his coat for a bit, enjoying the burning in his muscles that kept him warm, before it got to be too much. Tobias found that promising. Hopefully soon the snow would start to melt and the leaves grow back, replace the cold, dreary sidewalks with at least a little colour. Not to mention slightly increased temperatures would help out certain individuals.

Just to humour himself he takes the path toward her street corner again. So far this week she'd been nowhere in sight. Perhaps her telling him not to be a stranger had been her throwing him a proverbial bone. He'd probably frightened her off so much that she'd taken the first bus out of town to steer clear of him.

Today is no different. His shoulders slump forward for a moment before he remembers what Christina had told him earlier this week and he stands up straight again, meeting the smile of the woman jogging past.

Tobias passes out back at home, exhausted from the week of hard work and late nights out, coupled with the nights he just couldn't sleep. The midday nap causes him to wake up disoriented, after the sun has already gone down and his stomach is growling.

His blood feels like syrup and his throat is dry. A part of himself doesn't feel like moving at all, but his stomach quickly protests to that idea. Driven by his need for food, Tobias pulls himself out of bed, feeling haggard as he stumbles into the kitchen. He runs his hands through his bedhead and stretches out his muscles, scouring the cupboards for something decent to eat.

How sad that the only thing he can find edible is the soup and oatmeal he had gotten for Tris. For a brief second he considers throwing them away, but ultimately decides against it.

He runs his fingers through his hair a couple more times and throws on shoes and a jacket, grabbing his wallet and keys before leaving to get something to eat.

Walking outside he realises how wrong he was earlier. The air is freezing. Almost to the point that he turns around to just go eat the mush is his house. He shoves his hands in his pocket and braves it. The doorman greets him with a shiver and Tobias nods back.

He stops in a familiar café, ordering a grilled cheese because he really was a creature of habit, and sitting at a table in the back by himself.

The girl across from him who sits with a group of her friends keeps making flirty eyes, waving suggestively at one point even. He offers a half smile and tries to focus on his food. He's staring down at his plate when suddenly legs enter his peripheral vision.

He swallows and clears his throat, looking up at her and trying to keep his face neutral. "Can I help you?" he offers, a little taken aback by this girl. It's not as though this is some sort of bar!

"I'm sure you can," she says and giggles and he realises that no, this is not a bar, but she is drunk. Who even knew what time it was, now that he considered it. "You," she says, putting her finger on his nose, "are cute."

"Uh, thanks?" he says. "Listen, I appreciate your…interest, but I don't reciprocate."

She laughs again and sits down next to him. Tobias doesn't really know what to do except let it happen. "I'll be in the bathroom if you'd like to join me," she whispers in his ear and winks as she gets up, her leg brushing against his.

Tobias swallows and watches her walk away. He was rather unprepared for something like this coming up tonight. He was barely even awake for that metter. He looks at her table of friends and, on closer inspection, sees they are all quite the same. He isn't even sure if they were aware of her absence.

Normally this was the exact sort of thing that he'd turn around and walk away from, wrapping his grilled cheese in some napkins and going. Instead he gets up, turning to walk down the hallway toward the bathroom. It's darkly lit and deserted and, quite frankly, freaking him out. She opens the door just as he goes to and both of them jump back.

Tobias has just been slammed with a rush of regret and is about to apologise and turn around, when she grabs the lapels of his jacket and presses their lips together. He pulls her out into the hallway, which although empty and dark was at least more public than the bathroom, and lets the door shut behind her. He presses her against the door and kisses her. She's drunk and it's sloppy, all sorts of tongue and too fast moving lips. Tobias works with it though. It's while his lips are running down her neck and her head is thrown back that he realises what he is doing.

Jesus Christ. He steps away and wipes his mouth, as if there was incriminating evidence. "I'm sorry," he says, holding up his hands in an offering of surrender. She was drunk. She didn't know what she was agreeing to even if it was just kissing in the hallway of a public restroom. Did that count as taking advantage of someone? Oh god, please do not say that did. He didn't even know her name for fuck's sake!

"Whatever are you sorry for?" she asks, still all flirty eyes and sultry walk as she takes a step toward him.

Tobias backs away, completely unwilling to get anywhere near her. "I'm sorry, I can't," is all he says before turning and darting away.

Guilt overcomes him as he starts walking home and he isn't sure what to do about it. Yes, he hadn't actually done anything. But still! Honestly, the girl was probably better off with him than any other sleaze bags she could've stumbled upon in the bar. He should've seen her home, right? Or told her friends to watch out for her at least. Too late now, he decides. He wasn't about to turn back. To try and put this behind him he stops in at a very different café and places an order for two coffees, walking by Tris's spot with it. A good deed to replace a bad one, he figures. Even out the cosmos and all that bull shit.

Sure enough, for the fifth day in a row, Tris is nowhere to be found. Tobias's frustration nearly causes him to throw both coffees to the ground in a fit of rage. Instead he makes the mature decision and hands his doorman the extra coffee on his way back.

"Is this for me?" he asks incredulously as Tobias offers it.

He just shrugs and holds it out again. "It's cold," he offers and the doorman simply takes it, staring at him in slight awe before opening the door widely. Was Tobias really so much of a bastard that they were so surprised by this small act of kindness? Or were the doormen just used to everyone being bastards?

Either way, Tobias does feel slightly better as he rides the elevator to the top floor. All the restraint it took not to drop his coffee earlier was for naught, however. Because when the doors open his hand reflexively drops it at the sight in front of him.

Tris lay on the floor in front of his apartment door, unmoving. He rushes over and places his hand on top of hers to shake her. She's cold.

"Tris!" he shouts, shaking her again. "Jesus, Tris, wake up!" He presses his ear against her chest in vain, desperate to validate she hadn't died outside his door.

Silence.


	12. Breathe

**Hello all! So, apologies about the last update, I suppose that a bit of a cruel place to leave off on, satisfying though. Fair warning, there is a good amount of medical terminology and such in this chapter. Nothing too crazy though. I'm a pre-nursing student and I work in a hospital so it was kind of fun for me to write this chapter. You still probably won't be getting what you want from this chapter exactly but next update, on Friday, will have further progression. And again, I can never say it enough, thank you all so much for your continued support!**

It's funny what panic can do to a person. Tobias kneels there, his head pressed against where Tris's heart should be, and just waits. The all too loud buzz of silence is so overwhelming he can think of little else to do. He just holds his position, hoping.

Finally, common sense kicks in. He pulls himself away and gets his phone out his pocket. His fingers tremble as he attempts to dial 911 and waits with baited breath as it rings. His eyes are locked on Tris, unable to look away in case she moves or shows any other signs of life. "911, please state your emergency," the woman on the other line says.

"Yes, hi," Tobias answers, his own breathing increasing tenfold. "I just-I found my friend passed out in the hall, and I can't hear her heart beating."

"Okay," she answers, her voice still calm. "I need you to tell me where you are right away, sir."

Tobias gives her the address. Then his free hand goes to Tris's arm, her face, her chest, hoping for a reaction. "Top floor," he adds at the very end.

"An ambulance has been dispatched and will arrive shortly." He wonders how long that is. He feels certain they won't get here soon enough. "Now, I need you to do something, okay?"

Tobias nods in response before remembering to answer verbally. "Yes," he says with more confidence then he feels.

"Have you ever taken a pulse before?" she asks him.

Pulse, he knew what that was. He remembers learning about it in Health class in the ninth grade. "I think so. You press on someone's wrist, right?"

He doesn't wait for her to answer before pressing his fingers against Tris's wrist. He feels nothing. He remains persistent though, checking in different spots. "You can, yes, but it may be easier to find a pulse on her neck. Right beneath her jaw and in front of the muscles that protrude slightly on the neck, use your index and middle finger to check."

He puts the phone on speaker and takes his fingers, pulling away the collar of his jacket from her neck to begin feeling. When he feels something pressing back against his fingers; for a second Tobias thinks he might just collapse from relief. "I feel something! It's not very strong though."

"Excellent," she answers. "The ambulance will be there soon. Now I need you to answer a few more questions for me, can you do that?"

"Yes," he answers quickly, his fingers still pressed to Tris's neck in validation.

"Good, what's your name?"

Why the fuck did she need his name? "Tobias."

"Okay, Tobias. Is there any chance your friend hit her head when she fell down?"

Tobias looks around, she's propped up against the wall like she fell backward into it but her head seemed fine. "I don't think she did."

"Good," she tells him in affirmation. "In that case, I'm going to ask you to very carefully make sure she is lying flat on the floor, can you do that, Tobias?"

"Yes," he answers.

"Careful to keep her back and neck as straight as possible." Tobias knows what happens if someone injures their neck and it isn't held still when moving them. He'd be damned if he was the one to paralyse her. It feels more like he's the one unable to move, as his hands remain frozen, right near her. Eventually they move, and he reaches underneath both of her arms and reaches up, cradling her head and trying to hold it still as he lifts her just enough to lay her down.

"She's flat now," he reports with a hoarse voice. Her head shifts as he moves his arms out from under her and she makes a small moan.

"Good," she tells him again, as though any of this is good. "Keep checking her pulse and if you notice any changes tell me. I'll stay on the phone with you until the ambulance gets there, okay Tobias?"

Nodding again, his fingers go back to her pulse point and he holds very still. "I can feel it better now, I think."

"That's because you laid her down, helped her blood pressure," she explains to him and he just believes her even though that didn't make sense to him. Either way, he helped. That was good.

Tris coughs then, again and again with such force he was concerned she'd make herself vomit. She groaned when she finished and her hand flew to her throat. Her eyes stayed closed and she made no move to get up. If he had to take a guess, he'd say she was only half conscious. "I can't breathe," she whispers out.

"Someone's coming to help," Tobias answers, his hands doing that hovering thing again. "Tris, I'm so sorry."

She cracks her eyes for a second but quickly shuts them again. "What for?"

"I should've been here!" the exclamation causes a pit in his stomach. Instead of being here he'd been off taking advantage of an innocent girl. "You're going to be okay."

It's the most he can offer her as she wheezes and sputters again, the last bit of energy fading out of her as she slumps back to unconsciousness.

Finally, the elevators ding open. Four men come out with a gurney and bags of supplies. "Out of the way," they tell him and Tobias doesn't need to be told twice. He watches from the corner and listens to everything their saying. None of it made very much sense.

First they take off his coat from her body and then they cut open her shirt, leaving her in only her bra. "Decreased breath sounds on both sides," the one with the stethoscope reports. "Especially the right though."

"Get her on the gurney and let's go!" another shouts and Tobias watches in slight fascination as they all work without any other words. They roll her onto her side in a straight line and then lower her back onto a bright orange backboard; someone else doesn't waste a minute getting a neck brace on her.

Tobias could swear with the lights shining down on her bare upper body that she's a slight shade of blue. The sight raises another wave of panic in him. "Can I come with you?" he asks, as they all load in the elevator.

The guys turn and exchange glances before the one he didn't even care to notice was a woman says, "We need all the room we can get in order to work on her. Meet us at Northwestern Memorial Hospital."

All he can do is nod dumbly as the elevator doors shut in front of his face.

This is the first time Tobias has used his car in over a month now. He's surprised when it starts up as easily as it does. After that, he wastes no more time on simple thoughts such as those and drives out of the underground parking garage and onto the street at a speed slightly faster than necessary.

Tobias had always enjoyed driving for the most part, but never saw the point of it in a city where everything was so close. Not to mention he enjoyed driving, not sitting in traffic for twenty minutes to go ten blocks. Thankfully it's late at night and everyone walks to the bars on Saturdays, allowing them to get as drunk as they pleased. He takes advantage of this and drives quickly.

It was all just about astounding to him, just how strong of a reaction he'd had. His heart was only now starting to beat a little slower and he could feel how clammy his hands were. The fear was very real, and very strong. Tobias didn't know what he would have done if it'd been a stranger laying there like that. Surely he would panic just the same, definitely call 911 still, but would the fear consume him like it had earlier?

All he can do now is beat himself up over the fact that he hadn't been more insistent on taking her to the hospital earlier. Clearly she was very ill, not the kind that can be fixed with eighteen different types of cough syrup either. He should have done more, tried harder, insisted longer. There was nothing she could have done to help herself in this situation.

He pulls into Northwestern Memorial and parks illegally in a handicap space. Rushing into the hospital doors, he walks straight up to the registration desks. "Can I help you?" the girl sitting there asks.

He approaches her, not bothering to sit in the seat and trying to steady his tone. "I'm looking for a girl, they just brought her in on ambulance."

She nods, clicking on her computer a few times. "What's her name?"

"Tris," he answers automatically. The girl clicks a few more times and furrows her brow. "They didn't know her name when they brought her in, though."

She looks up and nods. "Yes we have her in as Jane Doe. What's your relation?"

"Uh," he freezes, unsure of what to say. If he says he's just a friend they might not let him anywhere near her or tell him anything. If he says he's family he'll be expected to know things, like her last name. "I'm a good friend."

"Would you be able to help with her registration maybe?" she asks, getting up from the desk and walking to the counter in back of her, returning with a few papers. "We just need signatures and some information."

He contemplates. He had no information to offer, but he could at least sign maybe. "Signatures for what?"

She slides them across the desk, clearly not caring that they had no familial relation. "Just billing and treatment consent."

He scans them quickly and signs his name. He'd be paying the bill and certainly gave his consent for that. "Can I go and see her now? I'm the only one coming; I might be able to help tell them what happened."

She nods like she doesn't really care. "Just have a seat in the waiting room and I'll call the charge nurse to see what she'll want to do."

"Okay, thanks," he says turning away and walking into the waiting room. There were a few other people there, one guy looked green and puked in a bucket, an older woman sat and shivered under her blanket, and one dude had his thumb bent in the wrong direction. The rest looked just fine to him.

Honestly, Tobias thought he might look the worst in that waiting room. He can't help himself as he paced back and forth, his hand running through his hair so much he's convinced he'll pull it all out. He knows he's pale on top of it all. He'd never been in an emergency waiting room before, not for any real emergency at least. When his mom had died he'd been tucked away in bed asleep, completely oblivious to it all. The waiting was definitely the worst part.

No more than two minutes later the girl comes back out, a big smile on her face. "You can go ahead back sir, just through these double doors and take a left at the elevator," she tells him as she scans her badge so the doors swing open.

Tobias thanks her and walks through, hurrying past all of the other rooms and to the elevators, he makes a left and comes to a split. To his left is more rooms, to his right is a commotion including EMTs and an ambulance gurney. He goes to his right.

The chaos is overwhelming when he gets there and it terrifies him. "Low BP in the field, decreased breath sounds on both sides, and an obvious blue tint to the skin. We've been delivering oxygen for twenty minutes now which has shown signs of slight improvement." The female EMT reports, reading off of a chart.

"Who found her?" a nurse asks as she listens to Tris's chest.

"Some guy said she was passed out in front of his apartment. He looked pretty scared so I guess he knew her, but they're clearly from very different social circles."

"Her pulse ox is still low." Someone else comments as a machine beeps. "We might need to intubate if her levels don't come up soon."

"EKG shows her heart is functioning harder than normal."

"Should I run ABGs?" "Someone needs to get us into CT!" "Pupillary constriction is good." "Her reflexes all appear intact."

The words and doctors all float around him, no one even noticing he's there when all he can notice is everyone else. At least three nurses and a doctor are here, plus the EMTs and they all seem to have plenty to say. If only he knew what it meant maybe he wouldn't have such a bad headache.

"Shit, her O2 is too low. Someone get me an intubation tray."

Tobias is horror struck by what happens next. The doctor pulls Tris's head back and opens her mouth, shining an odd shaped flashlight inside before taking a tube and slowly lowering it down her throat. Tobias nearly gags just from watching. "Check for increased breath sounds," she says as she begins pressing a balloon like thing that inflates after she collapses it each time.

"Much improvement," a nurse answers as he listens to Tris's exposed chest. "There's definite inflammation though."

"Damn, how'd she let it get this bad?"

"Homeless, we're pretty sure," the EMT answers. "She had a jacket that looked fancy but was horribly dirty and her clothes were probably weeks old. Not to mention that," she points to Tris's legs, of which clearly had not been shaved in a very long time.

"Shame," the doctor says. "Too young to be dealing with this."

A nurse hangs up a phone and jumps in, "CT is bumping the next scheduled patient, we can take her now."

"Alright people you heard her, let's move."

They release the breaks on the bed and start wheeling Tris, now with a tube down her throat, to somewhere else. "Excuse me," Tobias finally says as they all keep moving past him.

The doctor pauses, walking over to him. "Are you the friend who found her?" she asks.

"Yeah, that's me," he says, watching as they push her down the hall. "Will she be okay?"

The doctor smiles graciously at him. "I promise we're doing everything we can to take care of her. Do you think you can answer a few questions for me?"

Tobias nods, and follows the doctor into the room. She walks over to the side and sits down, he pulls the other chair across from her and sits down as well.

"Okay, for starters can you tell me her name or birthday?"

He stops and thinks, some friend he was. "All I know is that her first name is Tris. We haven't known each other very long."

"I see," she says, nodding as she pulls out a notepad from her pocket. "So I'm sure you won't know much in terms of medical history but please just answer what you can, okay?"

It sounds simple enough, in theory. "Do you know how long she's been sick?"

This one he knew. He stops and considers it, when that awful cough started. It'd been that Friday morning, when he had brought her coffee on his day off. "I think two weeks ago now?"

"Do you know why she didn't go see someone sooner?"

"No insurance," he answers, uncertain if he should be telling them she's homeless or not. Some part of him feels relatively certain Tris would not want anyone to know. "She was hoping she'd be able to get better on her own."

"Do you know if she smokes or ever has smoked?"

Statistically Tobias knew she would be more likely to smoke than not, but she didn't exactly seem like the type to him. "She doesn't that I'm aware of."

"That's good," the doctor nods and continues writing. "I'm assuming you don't know of any past family history or her own?"

"Afraid not."

"Does she have any allergies we should know of?"

He shrugs.

"I'm assuming she doesn't have cystic fibrosis."

"I don't even know what that is," he answers truthfully. He'd heard it on the television a few times but hadn't ever cared to know more.

"You'd probably know if she did." From the sound of her voice the doctor had already answered the question anyway. "Any chance of pregnancy?"

Now he really doesn't know how to answer. Because there was, wasn't there? Tobias was relatively certain that the night she'd walked off with pub douche face they hadn't gone home to cuddle. "It's possible maybe." He wondered if the doctor would assume it was his.

"Any past drug use?"

"Not that I know of." There had to be though, right? Isn't that why people ended up on the streets, drugs? "Do you know when she'll wake up?" he finally jumps in with a question of his own.

"She passed out because her oxygen was low, as well as her blood pressure. We're pretty sure she has a very severe case of bacterial bronchial pneumonia that's been left untreated for far too long. Her body made her pass out in order to try and preserve itself." She stops and smiles at him, kindly. Doctor's seemed to always do everything with kindness. "I would expect with her being intubated she should wake up soon. We'll need to start administering antibiotics as soon as we can and hope the infection hasn't spread to her blood."

"What happens if it did?" he's fearful of the answer and the doctor's face makes him feel like he has every right to be.

"Sepsis could occur which is a very dangerous illness when not treated in a timely manner." The answer makes his blood run cold and all he can think about again is how he should have made her come in sooner. "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your name," she says to him.

It reminds him of the girl on the other end of the 911 call. It seems so silly, asking his name when Tris could be the one dying. "Tobias Eaton," he answers anyway, his voice void of the earlier emotions that carried.

"Well then Mr. Eaton, we'll keep you updated. You can stay here in her room and wait for her, okay?"

He nods numbly and the doctor leaves. What now, he wondered. It was nearly two in the morning on a Sunday and all he could do was sit frozen in a hospital room, terrified that a girl whose last name he didn't even know may not make it.


	13. Your Side

**Oh my god I'm sorry everyone! I know this is a day late and I can offer you about ten excuses as to why. It's nothing something I intend to make a habit of, but life was nonstop this week. The kids I babysit for had to stay home sick from school one day and were off the other, I got called in to work on my one day off at the hospital, and school assignments have been plentiful. All in all, I can't remember the last time I slept for more than four hours a night. So, that being said, this is not revised to its usual standard at all. I wrote most of it when I woke up and edited right after. I hope despite its less than impressive quality you still enjoy it, at least marginally. Also, sorry I have not replied to any reviews or messages. I will get around to doing that tonight when I get home, or tomorrow night, depending on how that goes. Sorry again, both about the lateness and the less than usual quality. I'd read this chapter with a grain of salt. Hopefully you still enjoy it. Thank you all once again!**

There's something about chaos that, after it's over, leaves a sense of serenity over everything. So even though the sun has started coming up, and Tobias has not yet been asleep; and even though he's sitting by the bed of a girl whose last name he doesn't even know whilst a machine helps her breath and antibiotics enter her body via an IV, he actually feels very much at peace. There's no worry here. The doctor's assure him that Tris is stable, though they can't tell him anything else. Now he feels as though he is just waiting. The strangest part is he doesn't even know what for.

He stares at all of the flashing numbers on the machines around her bed. None of them make much sense but he's learned when they drop a certain amount, things start beeping. The tube down her throat is taped in a way that looks very uncomfortable. He wonders if she can feel how it pulls her skin back and if she'll wake up with a rash from the adhesive.

Nurses come in periodically, stethoscopes around their necks that they use to listen to Tris's lungs. They ask if he needs anything. They tell him she'll be admitted to a room soon. They offer him the TV remote. They remind him that calling her family may be in her best interest. Mostly they just talk at him. He lets them though, not having much to say back anyway. One of them brings him some soup in a Styrofoam cup and a couple packets of saltines. She has a kind smile and a scrub top with Charlie Brown characters. When she checks on Tris she's the epitome of gentle. She brushes back her hair and pats her hand, almost like a mother would to a daughter. He decides she's his favourite.

Around eight in the morning, he gets restless. They've told him she has a room upstairs, they're just waiting for transport to get in. The waiting game continues. He stands in the hallway on and off, watching the other patients being wheeled in from the ambulance or escorted back from the waiting room by the nurses. One old, senile lady keeps screaming for help. They tell her once, twice, three times, that she's in a hospital to get better and it will all be okay. She keeps screaming. Tobias wonders what she needs help with.

He wonders a couple of times if he should leave. After all, would Tris find it strange that he's sat here this whole time? Would it freak her out again? But then he remembers that she had been outside of his door. Not to mention, there was no one else. He couldn't just leave her completely alone in a hospital.

Tobias follows the transport guy as they load into the elevator and onto the third floor, IMC unit, it says. No one says much of anything. They put her in a private room and there's more nurses, more machines, more offers for coffee.

"When will she wake up?" Tobias finally decides it's the only thing he really even needs from them.

"Oh, it's hard to say," the nurse says as she switches out the bag holding Tris's antibiotics. "Your friend managed to make herself pretty sick waiting as long as she did."

He contemplates that for a moment. "Does she have that blood thing? Sepsis or whatever?"

"Mr. Atton, is it?" she asks, moving a chair to sit next to Tris's arm and pulling over a tray.

"Eaton," he corrects, not that it really mattered. That name didn't have much power attached to it outside of the business world.

She nods, wrapping a thick rubber strip tightly around Tris's arm and flicking the crook of her elbow. "Mr. Eaton, you know we can't give out information like that."

He wonders why everyone keeps offering him help if they can't even give him the only thing he wanted. "I don't need specifics but you keep drawing blood like you are now and it's been hours since you put that tube down her throat, and for all I know she could be dying and there'd be no one in the world to care."

The nurse stops poking at Tris's arm to look at him. "Mr. Eaton, I assure you that your friend is not currently dying. And I shouldn't even say that much, but I've got a soft spot for you chivalrous men worrying over the fair maiden and all. Something straight out of Nicholas Sparks movie."

Even with that less than helpful answer, it at least puts his mind at ease a bit more, relaxing him back into the calm after the storm moment he'd been having earlier.

At some point, he doesn't know when, he must have fallen asleep with his feet kicked up on Tris's bed and his head unsupported on the back of his chair. Because he wakes up to the sound of gagging. At first he thinks Tris is going to throw up, but then he sees her fighting with the tube in her throat and trying to pull it out. "Hey hey hey!" he yells, pulling her hands away. "Help!"

The nurses have already been alerted by some more beeping coming from her machines, and they rush in. "Tris!" one of them shouts. "Stop honey, it's okay." They help hold her hands down. "Don't panic, it's just a tube to help you breathe, it's oaky." She keeps talking, saying the same things over and over again until someone else walks in and puts some other medication in her IV, causing her eyelids to shut again.

Tobias stands, frozen. He'd been pushed back as the collection of care providers gathered in the room, something which he hadn't fought. "Is she okay?" he asks numbly. He'd never seen anything so desperate as Tris clawing at that tube to try and get it out. Animalistic, was the word that came to mind. "What happened?"

The nurses do that thing again, with the sad smiles and sadder eyes. "She's fine," one of them answers. "Her waking up is very good sign. She just reacted poorly to the intubation. It's common."

Tobias nods, trying to erase the image. "Will you take it out for her?"

"The doctor is trying to decide if that's in her best interest, based on her CT."

Was he just supposed to sit here while she slept for days? He didn't even know if she was getting better or not! "But she can wake up again soon, right? You won't just keep her knocked out, will you?"

"Many patients are awake when they have endotracheal intubation. The initial period of waking up can be frightening though, as they don't have any control over their own breathing and trying to do it one their own causes them to choke. It's frightening."

The rest of the group leaves the room, leaving only one nurse who does the same thing they all keep doing with the stethoscopes and the machine examining and IV checking. "Thankfully, the medication we've been able to administer seems like it's helped open up her airways. I'd take a gander the doctor will pull out the tube in a couple of hours."

A couple of hours. So he sits back down in the uncomfortable chair, still slightly numb from the whole experience, and tries to settle himself back in. Even if she was out for several more days, he was the one who got her in this situation and he was going to be here to help her through it.

He must have dosed off again, as the next thing he knows the sun is shining through the windows now and Tris's head is titled back again as they pull out a spit covered tube. Gross. "Is she okay?" he asks, after the doctor pulls it out entirely and wraps it up with the other supplies before throwing them out.

"Take this as good sign," the doctor says, nodding his head. "We're putting her on 2 litres of oxygen and keeping an eye on her stats to make sure they don't drop too low."

"Is the medicine working already?"

The doctor smiles in that way doctors do because they know they're smarter than you. "No, unfortunately antibiotics can be effective quickly, but not at this late stage. However, the other medications we administered to open up her airways and decrease the inflammation work much quicker and have been very effective. The sedative they gave her should wear off soon."

And, not being able to tell him anything else, the doctor walks out at that.

Tobias pulls his chair a little further from Tris's bed, making sure she has enough space. He fidgets with her blankets for a second, they were all dishevelled from the nurses moving them every which way when working on her. And then he just runs his hands through his hair and walks back and forth in front of her bed.

Once she woke up, then what? They would have questions and Tobias didn't know if she had answers. Would she get in trouble for being homeless? They couldn't kick you out if you said you couldn't pay the bill, could they? Would she kick him out? Would he leave if she did?

He's still pacing and pulling when her machine starts beeping. He turns and looks at one of the numbers which is way up from before. Was that bad? Taking a look at her, he can guess why. She was coming to and was clearly panicked. "Tris," he says, standing away from her bed a bit, but still hovering nearby. "Hey, it's okay."

She groans and stirs, coughing and sputtering, he assumes, when she tries to swallow. He quickly grabs the cup of water they left sitting on her table and holds the straw out so she can drink. She does, slowly. "Ow."

Tobias laughs even though nothing is really funny. "Ow is right, I'm sure," he says. "I guess your throat is probably sore from the tube."

"What…" she trails off again, her hand flying to her throat. Finally, she opens her eyes. He'd never noticed the green tint lying dormant under the obvious brown. It created a quite nice shade of hazel. He tries to smile as she stares at him.

"Listen, you're okay now, well I think at least, they won't tell me anything, but I found you passed out in front of my door. They brought you in and…well Tris, you're really sick." He doesn't know how to explain it all. The EMTs with their slightly panicked shouts and the way his heart had raced when he was calling 911. He didn't understand anything medical they'd done so he could barely talk about endo-whatever tubes and antibiotics. "But you're going to get better now. It's all going to get better."

At first she doesn't respond, just stares. He's relatively convinced she's just going to send him away. Finally, she does speak. "No," she says, her voice hoarse and her face flinching as she speaks.

"Excuse me?"

"I _can't _be here, Tobias," she says, her voice pleading despite its weakness.

He shakes his head at her, still as stubborn as can be. "Tris, you have to be here. If they don't take care of you, you die." It sounds harsh, even to his ears, but he'll be damned if he lets her leave out on the streets only for this to happen all over again. Her goddamn pride was going to have to take a vacation for a few days and let her heal.

She shakes her head and, to his complete shock, her eyes look like they're filling with tears. "It's okay," he tells her, reaching out to put a hand on hers. She pulls her hand away and he does the same, reaching up quickly to run through his hair instead. "Don't worry about money or anything, we all just want you to get better." Speaking of which, wasn't he supposed to get a nurse and tell her that Tris is awake? He was pretty sure that was protocol.

"Tobias," she says again, and there's something about the way she says his name, with her voice almost gone and exhaustion evident, it still sounds so persistent. "It has nothing to do with money."

He freezes, puzzled. "Then what is the problem? Do you have drugs on you? Are you going to be arrested for something if they know who you are? Whatever it is, it's not as important as getting better."

She doesn't answer now, and he wonders if he's guessed right, effectively causing her to stop talking, out of shame or just because she didn't feel the need to anymore. "I have to get your nurse," he tells her and even though he hovers there, not really moving, she still doesn't respond. "You know, this might be a little easier if you talked to me." Stereo silence. He walks over to her, right next to her bed and stares at her until she meets his gaze. "I'm on your side, Tris," he says in a hushed tone. Her eyes plead in a way her voice just won't and, once again, he reaches out his hand, resting it on her arm. "Just let me be."

She nods.


	14. Found

**Hello all! A prompt update today! Thank you to everyone who was so understanding about the late update on Saturday. I really do appreciate it. Not going to lie, I did struggle a bit with this chapter so if it seems a little disjointed, that's why. I have edited multiple times now though so hopefully it pieces together a little better. Also, I didn't realise until a couple of days ago that the section breaks I'd been putting in weren't showing up on the site! So now I'll be using two asterisks which will hopefully work properly. Sorry for any earlier confusion there may have been. Another thank you for all of the reviews and messages. I'm still late on replying to some of you but I promise to get around to it soon! **

**Oh, one more thing, idk if anyone would be the least bit interested in it but, seeing as music is a big part of writing and especially chapter direction for me, I was thinking of maybe putting together an 8 tracks playlist for this story. At the same time I don't really have a ton of time for that but if anyone is interested I could certainly start putting it together at least! If you are, just let me know and if you'd be interested in helping at all let me know! Suggestions would also be appreciated **** Thank you all again for your support and I hope you enjoy! Next chapter will be posted sometime on Friday.**

The nurses waste little time after Tobias lets them know Tris is awake. They make the most of her alertness and alter their usual routine to include about a dozen questions. "Does this hurt?" "How long have you been feeling sick?" "Do you have any allergies?" And finally, "What is your name?"

Tris doesn't answer at first, her mouth opens like she's about to speak only to snap shut again. "Tris," she answers after several moments have passed.

The nurses exchange a look with one another. Two of them leave after writing a bit more down and the last one is left to offer Tris a drink. "We need your last name, dear."

"Oh," is all she answers with, and then she takes the straw the nurse offers to her and begins to sip, slowly. It takes her over a minute until the guzzling sounds that signify the end start, and then she has no choice but to pull away. "Ivy," she says when she does.

The nurse throws her a doubtful look, but smiles softly all the same. "Alright then, Ms. Ivy. How about your first name, is Tris short for anything?"

"Beatrice," she answers without hesitation. Then she nods her head a few too many times. "Beatrice Ivy."

"Have you ever been here before?" she questions, stepping back and giving Tris her space. "Even to our doctor offices or anything?"

"No," she says simply. "I'm pretty new in town."

The nurse nods and smiles kindly at Tris again. It was the same smile Tobias had been on the receiving end of earlier. "We'll send someone up to come and get some basic information from you and get you registered under your real name, okay?"

Tris nods back and the nurse smiles at them both, again, before leaving. "Ivy?" Tobias asks, raising an eyebrow over to her from where he sat in the chair next to her bed. "Might as well of gone with cup or bed, maybe flower would have been more inconspicuous."

Her face blushes bright red and she looks down. "I don't know what you're talking about," she clears her throat and picks at the blanket. Since his earlier statement Tris had seemingly relaxed. She was more like the girl who'd stayed the night at his apartment and less like the one who'd woken up in a hospital room. "Besides, you try and come up with a name on the spot like that."

He bit his tongue to keep from asking why she needed to come up with a name at all.

Tobias was anxious for the doctor to finally show up and fill them both in on what to expect. He'd attempted doing some googling on his phone whilst she was sleeping, but all he had found was about old people with pneumonia. It would seem most other people could recover on their own. Guess there weren't a ton of recorded accounts regarding homeless people and pneumonia. He felt pretty confident she didn't have that blood thing at least. They'd stop drawing blood a few hours before she woke up which seemed pretty promising.

"Tobias?" she asks and his head turns to meet her gaze. He doesn't say anything but instead waits patiently for her to continue. "Why are you here?"

Oh, well guess that was what he'd been expecting for a while anyway. Tobias can't say he's surprised by the question, but there was a brief flash of hurt. It made sense, for her to not want him around. He stands up, at least willing to go home for the night and give her some space. "I'm sorry. I can go-"

"No!" she says, her voice urgent. She seems to check herself and clears her throat. "I didn't mean it like that," she clarifies quietly. "I just didn't understand why you had bothered to stick around for so long."

Tobias sits back down. At first, he doesn't know what to say. This entire…friendship of theirs has been so consumed by its oddities that he isn't even sure he knows how to have a normal conversation with her. All of his decisions had been based off of not seeming weird or threatening or over bearing to a girl who doesn't even know him. He's been here this whole time, carefully afraid, and he doesn't even know how to tell her why.

"I…" he starts and then trails off. She's the girl on the streets who gave up her coat and drinks coffee with him and disappears into the night with no other way to make money than to sell herself.

And Tobias would be damned if he didn't at least tell her the truth. "You were just there, outside of my door, Tris. You were cold and blue and completely unresponsive." Just thinking about it pulls the entire scene from the recesses of his memory and forces them to play again. The elevator doors sliding open, the coffee dropping to the ground and splashing hot, dark liquid everywhere. The image that stands out the strongest though, is the one of her lying on the floor, in front of his door, completely alone. "You wouldn't wake up. And I…I was so damn scared."

She watches him closely and bites her lip. Her eyes shift anywhere but his. "Why were you outside my apartment?" He can't help but ask it, now that he's thought of it.

"I didn't mean to," she says, her tone apologetic. "I could barely breathe though, it felt like my lungs were on fire, and I was so scared. All I could think about was how you said to come back if I needed anything and I didn't want to but…" she shrugs to punctuate her sentence. "I was scared."

For a second there's silence. Neither of them know what to say or how to say it. They both just take in what the other has said. "I'm glad you found me." Tris finally adds.

He smiles at the sincerity in her voice and thinks of how he had been looking for her right before he'd gone home that night, a coffee cup in hand for her and everything. "I'm glad you found me too."

Fear, Tobias decides, does very strange things to a person.

Sundays for Tobias were normally spent waking up late, working out at the gym, and stopping for dinner on his way home. Every once in a while he went to a movie or something, but still, as with the rest of his days, he usually spent it in solitude. So even though his entire day ends up being spent sitting in a hospital, he doesn't regret his choice at all.

Tris and him continue making simple conversation, careful to not let it get too personal. The doctor did finally come in and, after getting the okay from Tris, filled them in on what was going on and what to expect because of it. The doctor explained Tris was ill in more ways than one. He explained that her immune system was horribly compromised and her body exhausted. His instructions were strict, about making sure she ate more and put on some weight. No one mentions anything about how that was easier said than done.

The good news they hear is that, although serious, Tris's condition is already improving. The IV antibiotics would need to be continued to be administered around the clock, and she would be in the hospital for at least several more days, but her body was responding well to the help it was getting. She was lucky, they stated several times, that she hadn't gotten worse or suffered any more damage. Just another day longer and she could be on the road to death. Tobias knows they're just trying to scare her into not waiting so long next time, but all it does is debilitate him entirely at the thought.

As the sun is setting the two of them find themselves lingering between awkward conversation and even more awkward silence. Tris sleeps. Tobias worked through his ever confused thoughts. He didn't push her anymore and she didn't add to her comments of adamantly needing to leave.

It was all relatively calm. Until the girl with a vest and a computer on wheels walked in. "Hi, I'm Tori from registration. I just need to ask you some questions in order to get all of your information in the system."

Tobias can feel the sense of disdain that rolls off of him from far too cheery demeanour. She smiled too wide and her voice was a few octaves higher than he'd bet it actually was. "Such as?" he asks, intervening for Tris. She didn't seem too fond of questions. The pushing and prodding was enough to scare her from anyone it seemed. Tobias wouldn't be surprised if it was enough to send her to the nurse's station to check out.

"Basic information, stuff we normally get when a patient first comes in." But couldn't because Tris was unconscious, are the unspoken words. Not to mention Tobias was useless as well.

"That's fine," Tris says, fidgeting in her bed to sit up straighter. The bed, the gown, the harsh lights, everything drowned her out and made her seem like so much less in here than she was out there. On the streets, Tobias could almost feel slightly intimidated by her gruff nature and rude comments. In here, she looked like nothing more than a small, scared girl. It was a scary contrast. It also made him feel more responsible. She'd probably hate that.

They ask her name again and Tobias smirks as she says, "Beatrice Ivy." He wondered what her real name was.

"Birthday?" the girl asks and once again Tris freezes. It's very confusing, the only conclusion Tobias has come to is that she's in trouble with the law. People tended to try and hide their names and birthdays in that situation he'd imagine.

"April," she says finally. The girl waits patiently for Tris to continue. Her patient smile fading as she raises her eyebrows in question. "Oh, the eighteenth, in ninety five."

Tris's eyes meet his and he gives her a thumbs up. It doesn't strike him until he's already done it how stupid he probably looked.

"And what's your current mailing address?"

Now she just closes her eyes and looks defeated. For the first time, Tobias thinks he sees her give up, as if she knows she can't keep up this façade through a million more questions. He jumps in, rattling off his own address. "Apartment 5001," he tacks on at the end. Tris smiles at him and mouths a "thank you" as Tori types it into the computer.

They keep at this a bit longer, Tobias also give her his phone number. "Do you know your social security number?" Tris just shakes her head. She looks terrified but the girl doesn't think anything of it apparently. "A lot of people your age don't, no problem! Are you working anywhere currently?"

"Not at the moment, no," she answers hesitantly. She still seemed caught off guard that she didn't have to give out her social.

"Who would you like to list as an emergency contact?"

Once again, Tris looks over at Tobias, defeated, her lip bitten and her eyes worried. "You can list me," he jumps in. "Tobias Eaton, same address and phone number."

"Would you like to list anyone else?"

She shakes her head. "Just Tobias is good."

It hits him stronger than he would have thought, considering he'd thought of this before, but he can't imagine that prior to just a few weeks ago, Tris literally had no one. Even now, he was her only emergency contact. She had no mother or father or friends or siblings, not even an estranged aunt or quirky cousin. The struggles of living on the streets were not just with lack of food and warmth; they penetrated every aspect of her life, including relationships with others. Meaning she'd been left with no one. Whatever had happened to the people in her life before now kept them from coming back, and no one dared approach her as she was. She was a diseased portion of society, the gangrenous foot you cut off to keep the rest of your body from rotting. Alone because of fear and prejudice and judgement, not because of choice. It was sad, but the bigger portion of Tobias found himself swimming in the knowledge that he'd denied anyone of befriending him when he had been surrounded by dozens.

The thought of being alone in a crowded room was an interesting comparison to being alone on an empty street. How much scarier the second could be.

"Do you have insurance?" Tobias forgets all about his ponderings as Tris says no, she'll have to pay out of pocket.

In an act of instinct he reaches out his hand to pat her arm, which lay just a few inches away from him on the bed. She inhales sharply when his hand touches her the first time but doesn't pull away. He makes himself after a moment.

They waste another couple minutes answering questions that seem silly to Tobias. Primary care doctors, and email addresses, and if she was born in the US, not to mention offering her the privacy policy. She declines.

Finally she thanks them for their time and leaves, coming back a moment later and swapping out Tris's bracelet.

"Look at that," Tobias says once the girl leaves. "The stupidity of your last name, in print."

Tris laughs and rolls her eyes. "Shut up," but she does pick her arm up and look at it. "It's weird, picking these things. You spend your whole life just knowing them."

"And I couldn't inquire by any chance, could I? As to why you're creating an alias for yourself. A bad one, admittedly, but an alias nonetheless."

He knows it's a long shot so he's not surprised when she smiles at him and answers, "Nope."

The sitting starts to get to Tobias, as does the silence. As a few more hours tick by and the sun fully set he's hungry and tired and done with this stupid plastic chair. All he can think of is how uncomfortable he is, until of course, he thinks of how comfortable Tris must be. A bed, a warm room, and food, he wondered if it is as nice to her as he thinks it is. "Is it weird?" he asks.

"Is what weird?"

"You know," he shrugs. "All of this." His hands gesture around the room to the sink and the TV and the flowers the hospital must place in all of the rooms themselves.

Once again she shoots him a curious look. "You mean not freezing on the streets?"

"Well I-"

"I did use to live in a house, you know," she says and he wonders if he offended her. "But yeah, it is a bit weird remembering what it was all like."

He treads carefully now, "Did you ever regret it?"

"Regret living on the streets? Wasn't exactly a choice." She crosses her arms and Tobias knows that is her sign of the conversation being over.

He relents.

Another hour later and Tris looks utterly exhausted. The nurses continue their rounds and their IV bags coupled with the many cups of water they have her drink. He wonders if it gets exhausting, having so many people touch and poke and offer things to you. "Hey Tris," he says quietly, not wanting to startle her. Her gaze is sleepy as it meets his. "I should go, you know, shower and sleep before work tomorrow. I'll visit tomorrow when I get off, okay?"

"Mmph," she mumbles but does crack her eyes slightly and smiles softly. "'Kay."

When he turns back in the doorway to glance in at her again, the image almost catches him off guard. She's curled on her side, the oxygen tubes still in her nose and her face at rest is startlingly different from her face when she's awake. Tris is softer like this.

The whole way home he argues with himself. He'd just left her there, alone. He worries about no one calling him if she got particularly sick again. Or even just how she might feel, waking up only to find herself completely alone. He was the only person she had so he felt an obligation to at least be there.

But the realistic side of his brain reminded him that she needed space and he needed sleep. Neither of them having what they needed would not end well. He was invested, that was clear. But she was scared, which was also obvious. Both needed to proceed with this friendship as cautiously and patiently as possible. One wrong move and he could scare her off into the woods like a deer fleeing her predator.

The guilt slams into him again when the elevator doors open. He could still see where the dark coffee had stained the edge of the rug. In his mind he also saw her figure on the floor. But really no one is there, nothing is different. His door is surrounded by nothing more than walls and a window. All alone, empty and blank and free of crumpled, unconscious bodies.

He pep talks himself through turning the key in the lock and going inside. It's all okay, she's fine, and she's getting better at this very moment. It's more difficult than he'd ever thought, forcing yourself to believe something you are convinced the complete opposite of.

By the time he's in the shower he's almost convinced. The hot water seems to help him drive the point home further. His cup of tea, from the box he'd bought for Tris to drink whilst she was getting better no less, is a hot cup of continued proof. He thinks his pillows and down comforter will swallow the rest of the concern away. Especially considering he hadn't slept properly in a very long time.

But as soon as he closes his eyes, she's all he can see. Dead. He thought she was dead. The silence that had slammed into him like a train was just as deafening now. She had almost died because he'd been out gallivanting for the hell of it. She had passed out on the floor because he'd wasted five minutes sucking face with a girl he didn't even know.

Eventually the silence becomes too much. He grabs his phone dials the hospital, sits through eight different instances of being on hold before the nurses for her floor pick up. "Northwester Memorial, this is Amelia speaking. How may I help you?"

Quite the diatribe they all have to say, he also learned that. "This is Tobias, I was with Beatrice Ivy up until a little over an hour ago. I just wanted to check in on her."

There's silence for a few seconds. "Ah, yes, Mr. Eaton, right?"

He wasn't sure whether it was a good sign or not that they knew his name. "That's me," he confirms.

"Ms. Ivy requested we didn't refrain information from you anymore so I am able let you know that she is currently sleeping and stable. Pretty much in the same condition as when you left."

"Thank you," he breathes and hangs up the phone in relief. He was so glad to hear she was okay. Next time, when he closes his eyes, the thoughts of her blue tinted body on the floor are replaced with the gentle, sleeping girl in the hospital. Coupled with the nurse saying she'd asked them to share her information, with him. Tris had asked for that from them, for him. Tobias smiles.


	15. Simple

**Hello again! I hope you all are well. Once again, a big thank you to anyone who has supported this. And also, a big thank you to BK2U who has edited this chapter for me since I cannot seem to get my life together in order to send my fics in a timely manner to Windchimed. I will soon, I swear. But yes, big thank you to her because lord knows I can use all the help I can get when it comes to editing. I hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful weekend!**

**My response to last chapters reviews and messages will probably be very late tonight and the next update should be on Monday. Thank you again!**

An office is only as much of a prison as you make it. At least, that's what Tobias decides this Monday morning. Instead of the usual claustrophobia of the elevator ride he feels his spirits actually rise with each passing floor. The fluorescent lights don't seem to fade the colours from everything, but instead enhance the details. Inmates don't surround him, colleagues do. All of these intelligent, sometimes even kind people collaborate within this same space. His creativity is not stifled by his identical suit, but enhanced by the tiny addition of purple socks. Somehow, the world around him has miraculously gone from drab black and white to vivid technicolour.

He does not feel forced to hold the door for Mr. Thompson this morning, he does it graciously. The blueberry muffins are delectable, and the freshly prepared coffee a luxury he'd never properly appreciated before. He vanishes into Christina's office for the morning, the two of them jotting and graphing and planning. He breathes in deeply and shuts his eyes for a moment, appreciating the dim, relaxed lighting when he opens them. This is no prison at all. She's turned it into a home.

He joins in the conversation in the break room, an intense discussion of the Star Wars series. He'd never before taken the time to just talk about something that wasn't work-related with his coworkers. The leftover sub sandwich he'd brought with him tastes even better this second time around. He doesn't grumble about the dried out bread, but instead appreciates the flavourful mustard that moistens it.

It's funny what a new perspective can do to everything and everyone around you. Mrs. Fisher's tapping foot no longer drives him mad and stopping to help Mr. Hunter pick up his spilt papers bears hardly a second thought. These new ways of thinking and acting don't bind him to a certain set of behaviours, they actually set him free.

At least that's how his day feels until he's sitting in his own office, on hold with the hospital. His father throws open the door and Tobias slams the phone down so fast he's worried he's broken it. He knows, is all Tobias can think. He knows what Tobias has done and his money is about to be wasted and how much of a dumbass could he be? "Hello," he says, uncertainly.

His father looks at him, with hard eyes and a cinched up forehead. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Tobias refrains from comment. "You're a pain in the ass, but it turns out I can use on a project."

At first, Tobias says nothing. His father doesn't tend to put him on projects, not unless it's the bimonthly charity case or the office pot luck. He is the background man, here just for show. He attends meetings and sits in his office and is supposedly his father's "apprentice." As if his father would ever hand over his business before they had to pry it out of his cold, dead fingers. Even then, Tobias is convinced his ghostly figure will return from the dead to push him around and tell him just what do and how to do it. "A…project?" The nervousness in his voice is unfortunately apparent.

Knowing his father, it isn't unfair to be mildly convinced he'll be stuck with the project of cleaning all of the bathrooms or running to the nearest Hooters for wings for the whole office. "I have to travel to China in less than a week to deal with some accounting discrepancies. I need you to work on keeping this place running, along with a couple of matters I've been working on for months now."

Tobias stares, slightly in shock. His father notices his expression and adds derisively, "I know, I'm as surprised as you that I'm leaving you in charge of anything."

"What will I need to do?" The fear is consuming him. Not because anything is about to happen, not right now, but because he knows he's being handed an important task and pleasing his father is important, necessary even. If he comes home and is displeased with what's been done, well there goes his financial standing for one, and maybe even his ability to walk right along with it.

This office was not something to be messed with. Once, his father had been called out of a meeting because Tobias was sick with a stomach bug at school and the nanny wasn't answering calls to pick him up. The whole way home he was lectured and yelled at for ruining such an opportune moment. The next time he got sick at school he gave the nurse a dud phone number and said his dad didn't get service in the office.

"I have people coming, important people. They're interested in partnering with us."

Tobias doesn't know much about business, funnily enough, but he knows partnerships could be a very big deal. It could mean literally millions of dollars of increased revenue. Not just the money the other company has, but even more crucially, all of the clients they could potentially bring with them. "These are top floor important people, Tobias." That means the fanciest conference room with the best chairs and freshest pastries. "I've pretty much already sold this deal, but they still need a bit more convincing. I need _you_ to do that convincing."

It sounds daunting to him. He wasn't exactly gifted at convincing people of anything. In fact, he tended to be the guy who backed down from an argument, unwilling to carry on just for the sake of being right. He didn't see the point in manipulating the way someone thought in order to make them see your side of a matter.

"It might be as easy as being charming and gracious, but it also might be a lot more difficult. I've had my executive assistant put together folders and binders and slide shows of the information you need in order to be successful with this."

Two weeks ago and he'd nearly pissed his pants at the thought of getting his homeless service project right. Now he was barely handling that with all of Christina's help and something far more important, far greater of an undertaking, was being thrown onto his shoulders. His father glares at him menacingly. "Don't screw it up for once, can you do that?"

The 'yes' is stuck in the back of his throat, held back by the heavy 'no' that weighs on his tongue. The fear that strikes him is instant and paralyzing. He could never do this right. He couldn't even help the homeless right. He was a lost cause, a waste of space. He was the showpiece in the office to display to everyone. He was not a businessman. He was not capable. "Yes," he says with a confidence he doesn't truly feel. "Yes, I can."

Showing up to Tris's empty room actually manages to be the worst part of his day. The nurses must see the concern on his face because they all immediately reassure him. "Sorry, dear, someone was supposed to call you," the dark, sweet one says. She called everyone 'dear' and patted their hand like she would a child in need of reassurance. "They moved her to a regular floor now that she's no longer intubated."

Tobias doesn't know how many more of these stressful moments he can take today. Exhaling all of the air he'd held in just in case his breathing actually stopped, he follows the directions to her new room.

She is standing near the window, her hand pressed against the glass and her breath fogging it. She must hear him walk in because she says, "I always hated being stuck out there, freezing and slowly dying and all, but being locked in here isn't much better." Her smile when she turns to face him is sad and small. He smiles back.

"Could be worse," he says with a shrug, because really that's how he looks at a lot of things these days. Sure, he's stuck with the responsibility of handling a huge business move, but at least he doesn't have to run the business in its entirety. It could always be worse. He subtly knocks on the cabinet in her room to keep himself from being further jinxed. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugs as well and then wheels her IV pole back with her as she walks to her bed and climbs in again. "I was just up and walking, which the doctor said was impressive given that I didn't pass out from deoxygenation."

"Congratulations," he tells her and she gives a half bow from where she sits. He can't help but smile, still constantly surprised by her ever-changing demeanor. She seems playful tonight. Tobias falls into the seat by her bed, a different chair in theory but exactly the same in all of the ways it pokes him uncomfortably in the back. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about pleasing extremely powerful businessmen, would you?" he asks as a joke, laying his head back and closing his eyes.

"Actually," she answers. "I know quite a lot."

His eyes fly open. Had Tobias had anything in his mouth he might have spit it out. He looks at Tris warily, but now that she's said it her face shows nothing but regret.

She clears her throat. "Sorry, I umm, I didn't mean like that or anything…"

He knows that's a lie. He knows exactly what she meant. It makes his skin crawl, thinking someone has touched her like _that_in all the wrong ways. Just like that pig in the bar who'd started out by harassing that woman. She'd been used and harassed and forced into all the wrong things. "It's okay," he tells her, but her cheeks stay burning red.

The tension sits heavily between them as Tobias can't seem to wipe the imagery from his mind and Tris seems to be fighting her obvious embarrassment.

"So tell me what you do," she says after their long, awkward silence, interrupted only by beeping machines and slightly heavy breathing.

Tobias shrugs, "I told you already, remember? Pimp daddy businessman."

Her smirk and raised eyebrow are enough to help dissolve the tension. "Never say that again." He fights the very childish urge to stick his tongue out at her. "I know you do business-y things in business-y suits, but what do you _do?"_

What strikes him the hardest isn't the question; it's his lack of an answer. What _does_ he do? Wasn't this question the root of how it all had started? His lack of fulfillment with his life, which contained nothing and was devoid of purpose was suffocating him. He felt like a fraud; merely impersonating a man with an important job to do and a life to live, as though he was driven by a tenacious ambition to rise to the top. In reality, he was just one of those cake toppers, bought and shoved on top, only there for decoration. When it came down to it, the cake topper was the first to come off. "I pretend to be important."

"Huh," she muses. She seems to think a minute longer, her gaze wandering back to the window. All they could see out of it was the reflection of the room they were in, a mirror more than a way to look out. "That's funny; I pretend that I'm not."

Now he stares at her, hard. It was these types of statements that were constantly leaving him wondering about this girl and who she really was. They weren't exactly frequent, but whenever she made them Tobias knew there was much more left unsaid. He also knew he couldn't ask about it. "Intriguing," he grunts, and neither of them says anything more on the topic.

"How's your project going?" she asks, later enough that his eyes have grown heavy even in this uncomfortable chair, but not so far gone that he doesn't respond.

He knows she's referring to the one he'd asked her about before she became ill. "Good. Well, it was anyway."

"Was?" she prompts.

Tobias sighs. Just because she was closed off doesn't mean he should be. In fact, perhaps it was the exact opposite. Sharing was a two-way street. "My dad's giving me this giant project, one that's actually important to him, and it's probably going to take all of my focus." Now that he's thinking about it, he realizes just how disappointed he is about this. The motivation he'd found in his work for the last couple of weeks was inspired entirely by his project. Now _his_project would be tossed off to a few men with lower job titles who didn't really care past making it good enough to receive praise from the press. Poor Christina, she'd be back to dealing with the usual beefcakes who didn't give two shits.

Tris waits for him to say more but he doesn't embellish any further. His exhaustion just leaves him in a self-pitying mood. "Well, could I help?"

His head snaps up. "What?"

"Not like hiring me or anything, but I'll be stuck here all day for a while still. I could, I don't know, help organise stuff and tweak whatever needs work. After all, I'm probably the best one to help." She just kind of shrugs, her eyes avoiding his as she stares at the black TV. Pretending to not be important. "You wouldn't need to put my name on it or anything. Hell, we can just say they're all your decisions."

"Tris…" what does he say? The idea was tempting to say the least. Not for the sake of having his name on the project, but in knowing that it would be done right. "I wouldn't feel comfortable, having you work without pay." Lord knows, of all the people who should be volunteering their time, she was not one of them.

Tris shakes her head, "I really don't mind. I'm bored out of my mind and after all, it would kind of benefit me, right?" She says the last part with a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

He thinks, watching her staring at him with wide eyes and twisted fingers, and he thinks some more. "I'll make you a deal," he says finally.

"You're bargaining over whether I help you with your very important project or not?" Once again there is teasing in her tone, as well as nervousness. Her fear was brought on so easily.

He knows it's a long shot, but he breathes in before presenting his bargaining chip. "You've got, what, maybe five more days before they let you out?" She nods in response. "You can't check out and go back on the streets. You'll end up right back here or dead in an alley." His own voice wavers at the thought. "The doctors have already said you shouldn't go home alone straight away either."

"I know where this is going…" she says, her voice exasperated.

He holds his hand up to stop her protests. "You don't have a home to go to. Let me change that, at least for a little while." She lays her head back on the pillows and stares up at the ceiling, thinking. He continues, "I'll stay at a hotel, if it'll make you more comfortable."

"No, you don't have to do that."

He tries again, "Just think of it like this. You're working over the next few days, not for money, but for room and board. No favours, no other…expectations. Just your administrative services in exchange for my goods."

"Your goods?"

He immediately flushes and she laughs again, the holding your stomach kind of laughter. "You know what I meant! Goods and services. Jesus Christ, Tris."

She keeps laughing, and he just rolls his eyes and slumps in his chair like a pouting two-year-old. Out of the corner of his eye he can't help watching her, though. Her bubbling laughter and crinkled face are endearing. Tobias checks himself quickly, remembering that she was his friend, his homeless friend who is probably a train wreck that he needs to look away from. Like with all other train wrecks, though, that wasn't likely to happen.

When she finally stops she still wears a wide smile on her face. "That would be nice, though, if you're really sure."

"Insistent," he answers. "I didn't save your life to let you go die."

She seems to take that in for a minute. "Thanks for that, by the way. There aren't a lot of people like you, Tobias."

Stupid? Irrational? Capable of nothing? "How so?" he asks instead.

She shrugs and thinks for a minute. "You're just so…_good,_ you know?"

Her eyes speak sincerity and her voice rings with truth. The declaration, so small and simple, fills the space around him and warms the whole room. Maybe that's why she isn't just the girl on the street. She is the girl who brings out the very best in him. She is the one who sees the very best in him, too. She makes him good.

There are a million comments he could add, a dozen ways he could dismiss it, a hundred forms of dispute he could voice, but instead all he does is smile and say, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sometimes simple is best. Sometimes, being simple is the most honest way to be.


	16. Pact

**Okay so this is late, but in some parts of the world it is technically still Monday. This chapter was hell to write. First of all, the biggest of thank yous are due to BK2U who did not edit this chapter just once, but in fact twice when my dumbass decided to rewrite chunks of it at five this afternoon. Seriously, she put a lot of time in to editing this and helping me with it so be sure to thank her as well. Otherwise this chapter would still be the same train wreck it was this morning when I first sent it to her. Still not my best writing but I can at least say that it is not due to a lack of effort. Apologies that it's still a little rough around the edges. I do hope the next one will not give me such hard time. I'll get to your messages and last chapter's reviews tomorrow morning. Thank you all again for your amazing support and feedback! Next update on Thursday.**

Unfortunately, simplicity only lasts as long as nothing changes. As soon as change begins, that's when the complexities begin leaking through, too. Hospital visits, those were simple. Conversations about work and music and lung improvement were all simple. Hell, even preparing for having a barely-known houseguest come stay with you could be simple. Everything else? That was all much more complex.

Tris reacts well to the antibiotics. She eats three meals a day. She stays hydrated and regains her colour. Tris is a patient who is progressing perfectly. The doctors remark on her progress; the nurses praise her resilience. They prepare for her discharge two days earlier than they had ever anticipated.

Tobias had been expecting everything to be the same when he went for his usual visit that night. He had not anticipated that changes were underway. Tris was waiting for him to arrive. Only she wasn't waiting for him to come visit, but to take her home. He had been expecting her to be eating dinner; he'd walk in and tell her about his day and they would coexist together. Routines were simple for him, too.

But today when he walks into her room, Tris sits on the very edge of her bed. She wears a pair of blue scrubs and her hair is pulled up in a ponytail. He notices she is no longer tethered to an IV pole. In fact, he sees no signs of her life- threatening illness at all. If she was a different person with a different life she'd probably have a bag of stuff with her, her own clothes to wear home at least. But she wasn't any different than she was when he brought her in. Just because they washed her hair and gave her a bed didn't really change anything at all.

"They're setting you free," he comments, his footsteps heavy as he walks in the room to announce his presence.

Tris smiles hesitantly at him. She twists her fingers and rubs the hem of her blue scrubs between her fingers. "Yeah, two days early, which I guess is a good thing." Her shrug punctuates her uncertainty. He wonders if she feels the same unease walking into this hastily made agreement as he does. Not with reluctance, he hopes, but tentatively nevertheless.

"Of course it's a good thing," Tobias tells her, trying to muster his own enthusiasm. No more hospital. Time to go home. Time for the change. "Don't we need to sign papers and stuff before we leave?"

Tris gets up from where she sits perched on the edge of her bed. "I already did all of the signing out and got my prescriptions and stuff." Her hands fidget and he wants to reach out and still them. "The nurses said protocol is to wheel me out in a wheelchair."

Tobias can see her rolling her eyes at the mere thought. "Am I sneaking you out then?" A smile plays on his lips.

"Please," she answers, with true pleading in her voice. "I'm so ready to leave." Most would state how desperate they were to go home. But of course she had no home to go to. It was right there in the word, homeless, but still it was so easily overlooked. What must it be like to not have any home at all? No place to live or things to come home to. Thinking about the ramifications of Tris' life makes him sad for her all over again.

She smiles in exasperation and he reciprocates in earnest. He'd tried to convince himself he was more than ready to open up his home for the second time. The pressure of not fucking things up was mounting, though, and added to everything else going on Tobias was damn near sure he'd fail at everything and ruin not just his friendship with Tris, but maybe even her chance for a normal life. Tobias is convinced that from here on out, nothing will be simple.

"Time to break you out then." He resists taking her hand as they both hold the other's stare a moment longer before turning and walking out. It's not much of a breakout as the nurses wave to them as they exit. They leave behind what they've known and built on for days now, strolling straight for the unknown.

* * *

><p>There's a strong sense of déjà vu. From the awkward greeting with the doorman to the too quiet elevator ride and then when he finally turns the key and swings the door open. It was all so reminiscent of just a couple of weeks ago that it kind of freaks him out. He hopes it ends better than last time.<p>

Tris, however, seems to take it all in stride. She walks in and he follows, and when she watches the way he takes his shoes off and sets them nicely into place, she imitates him. Then he takes off his jacket and walks into the kitchen, placing his jacket over the back of a chair. Tobias almost laughs as he sees Tris copy his actions again. "You don't have to do that," he says.

"Oh," she replies and snatches her coat back up.

Tobias shakes his head at her and holds his hand out, taking the jacket from her. "It's okay," he says. The reassurance was as much for himself as it was for her. He didn't know if he was feeding off of her anxiety or vice versa. The wringing hands and shifting feet were sending him into a tailspin, though.

Despite how familiar it had felt starting out, he was beginning to realise how foreign this was to both of them. Tobias wasn't generally one for company, and he couldn't imagine Tris was particularly accustomed to visiting. "I've mostly mapped out phase C of deliveries," she says, in reference to the charity project that had multiplied in its intricacies and effort. "I'll just get back to working on that now."

Tobias waves her comment away. "Tris, seriously, don't worry about that." Lord knows he wasn't about to sit down at the island and pore over notes on the potential partners his father had mentioned or read some book on charming uptight businessmen, even with a three week deadline hovering over his head. It was a Thursday night and his energy had vanished somewhere back on Tuesday morning. He was ready for a break. "I'll make dinner, you can go shower or change or something."

The realisation that she had nothing to wear, and he'd done nothing to rectify that, makes him want to kick himself. The EMTs had cut off her shirt and Tobias had no clue what happened to the clothes she'd had on originally. So she was left with nothing but the scrubs the nurses had donated to her so she would be able to leave. He had remembered to do other things, like put an extra towel in the bathroom and make the bed up with clean sheets. Even the kitchen had been thoroughly stocked with actual food so that there would be more than soup, tea and ramen for them to eat. But clothes had completely slipped his mind. Tobias looks at the floor in awkward embarrassment.

Tris excuses herself quietly and Tobias just stands in the newly empty kitchen for a minute. Breathing, revelling in the solitude.

It was a bit awful, the amount of relief he felt once she'd walked out of the room. The tension between them just kept building, and he didn't know what to do. He felt off-balance and uncertain, despite her having spent time in his home previously. Their new- found friendship somehow made this all so much weirder. It was the exact opposite of how Tobias felt it should be.

Finally, his ability to compartmentalise kicks in and he is able to shut out any further thoughts of the girl in the next room and focus on the kitchen in front of him and the food he promised. Pasta, he decides, is easy enough to not screw up.

Tris comes back out, having changed into one of his old, faded black T-shirts while keeping the light blue scrubs pants on. Even though the pants are probably the smallest size available, her tiny legs still disappear in them entirely.

Pulling her hair out of its ponytail, Tris quickly twists it all back up into a bun and washes her hands. "How can I help?" she asks. She stands poised and ready, so different from the girl who walked out of the room. She seems self-assured.

"You don't have to worry about that," Tobias says with more certainty than he feels. He isn't useless. He really can make pasta; he's done it before. Admittedly, he has also burnt pasta in the past, but she doesn't have to know that. "You're the guest, remember? Just relax."

She heaves a sigh and he expects to find her sitting complacently at the island. Instead, her head is in the fridge and she's rummaging through it. "You look a little too confused pouring the pasta into the pot for me to be comfortable, honestly. Let me help." She smiles and resurfaces with vegetables he bought just yesterday and premade sauce he had forgotten was even in there. "Cutting board?"

For a moment he's frozen. He's spent the last four days and, if he's being honest, quite a few more before that, imagining Tris in his home. He imagined her with her hair fanned out on the couch and her towel laying on the floor and her quiet, nervous ways endearing him further. The real Tris had made a 180 degree turn, again. She must have thrown on a cloak of confidence while she was changing her shirt. This girl was a constant mystery to him.

What Tobias is discovering is that Tris isn't just going to be some decorative addition to his house. She is not a stagnant figment of his imagination. She is alive and energetic and…rooting through his drawers for knives.

"Don't you have a decent blade in this kitchen?" She is a whirlwind full of surprise.

Tobias stops thinking about his preconceived notions versus reality and decides to tune in to what's happening in the now. He pulls out the cutting board tucked behind the toaster oven and opens the dishwasher where he finds most of his knives shoved into various slots. He's pretty sure he washed them a few days ago…maybe.

The running water from the sink lets him know Tris isn't leaving that up to chance. "Don't forget to stir the spaghetti before it all sticks to the bottom," she instructs.

With her hair pulled back tight and wearing clean clothes, she's slowly replacing all of the earlier images Tobias associated with her. Her ever- changing mannerisms and decisions continued to throw him off. He didn't understand how someone could have such an inconsistent personality and yet still make so much sense to him at the end of the day.

"Where'd you learn to do all of this?" he asks as he watches her dice green peppers with precision, her face the picture of concentration.

Tris seems to contemplate for a second, eating one of the pepper cubes. "I cooked for my family a lot," she says finally. "My mom had her work and a bunch of extra things she was always doing. Cooking kind of became my chore."

Chore, family, mom: they were all such mundane words. "Do you miss it?" Tobias risks the question.

"Cooking?" She must know he means her family, her working mom and her assigned chores; her life. But instead she shrugs and sets about heating up the premade sauce in a big pot. "I found it pretty relaxing though I was never really all that great at it."

"Well when I was growing up there wasn't really anyone to cook for, except for me. I ate a lot of pizza." His dad was always working, his mom was gone before he even knew the difference. "So from where I'm standing, it's looking pretty damn good."

Tris flushes and makes a show of rubbing her forearm across her forehead, as though she's hot. Tobias smiles at her reaction.

The two of them work together in slightly awkward synchronisation. Somehow Tobias manages not to burn the spaghetti, mostly thanks to Tris, and whatever it is Tris has done with the sauce leaves the kitchen smelling so good that Tobias can't help but ask himself what he's been doing eating fast food all these nights. Once everything has been prepared they both sit at the island, in the same seats as the first night, and don't waste any time on pleasantries before digging in.

Tris makes a series of pleased noises after her first bite. "So much better than hospital food," she sighs as she swallows and waits only a fraction of a second before taking another bite.

"This is delicious," Tobias adds. "I am so glad you know how to cook." Tris laughs at him, but he's serious. He never had anyone who cooked for him when he was growing up. He didn't really know what he was missing.

The scrape of silverware and occasional slurping are the only sounds in the room for a while, both of them content to eat in silence. Tris breaks into their silence not long after she finishes. "I think there should be some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" he asks. He frowns slightly at her suggestion, and wonders why she has brought it up . "Like what?"

Tris nods, "You know, just basic stuff. I mean, it's your apartment. I'm sure there's stuff you don't want me doing."

"Oh," Tobias answers with a shrug. He hadn't thought about that. "I _do _want you to make me dinner." She laughs and rolls her eyes. "But aside from that, I guess just don't invite anyone over without telling me, or like, cut your toenails and leave them on the floor." Tobias shrugs again and resumes eating. "I'm really not hard to live with, I don't think."

Tris wrinkles her nose at the toenail comment and takes another bite. "What about the TV? Computer? What time should I go to sleep? Do you have a bathroom preference?"

"Okay, slow down," he says. "I'm not your parent, Tris. We don't have to make up a chore chart and rules list. I promise I won't ground you if you stay up late." Tobias shakes his head but Tris still just stares back uncertainly. "You can use the TV or computer literally whenever you want. I don't care if you're up all night, sometimes I am, too. And what the hell does bathroom preference even mean?"

Tris casually shrugs and plays with the leftover sauce on her plate, maintaining her outward composure. He can feel the nervous tension radiating off of her even as she tries to hide it, however. "Just a time you like to have the bathroom in the morning, or whatever."

Tobias struggles to find a way to reassure her. "Tris, just relax while you're here, okay? I don't care about what time you take a shower or if you watch a lot of TV. Just think of this as an extended sleepover."

"Those were the worst," Tris answers. "A bunch of girls I didn't really know all sitting around…giggling and braiding." Tobias is caught off guard once again by the idea of her at some sleepover birthday party.

The imagery is so strong that Tobias can't help but laugh, too. "Don't worry, there's only mandatory hair braiding around here on Tuesdays."

"What a relief," she says, holding her hand over her heart in mock seriousness. "Seriously, though, I don't want to intrude." She twirls her fork in her sauce, over and over, round and round.

Her fidgeting makes him dizzy. "Didn't we go over this last time?" he can't help but sigh. "You're a guest, and my friend at that. I _want _you here, Tris. Really, I do."

They've reached an impasse and he doesn't know how to break through it. Him having to say the same things over and over and her circling these same insecurities is frustrating. Tobias fears if she doesn't get over this at least somewhat that she's going to take off again, driven away by her own fears and unfounded concerns. He's not ready for her to leave this soon, he knows that much. "Let's just make a pact."

"A pact?" Tris asks, crossing her arms over her chest and shooting him another stare. "Do expand on that."

He thinks it over in his head, turning the idea again. "An honesty pact," he says finally. "We both just need to be honest so we don't constantly have to worry if we're annoying the other." He says the last bit for her benefit.

"Okay…" she answers slowly and then seems to think. "In that case, I'm uncomfortable taking your bed from you. Please don't make me do that again."

She sounds so…defeated. Tobias can't help feeling guilty over the fact that he made her sleep in it last time when she clearly is so uncomfortable about it now. "Of course," he answers earnestly. "A fair warning though, that couch is hell to sleep on."

"Better than concrete," she says quietly. "Also, let me help out. I'll feel better if I can at least clean and cook."

There are no objections that cross his mind at the mention of her cooking. "You are more than welcome to cook every night. You don't have to, though," he adds quickly. "And don't forget, you're already doing a lot by helping me with this project." Just in the few days she'd had it, Tris had taken his half-constructed, slightly misguided attempt and turned it into a grand scale, in-depth plan. She was undoubtedly the right one to take it over. She knew exactly what supplies each section of the city needed and even started adding little safety notes for certain street corners. Tobias was half tempted to take her to work and throw her and Christina in a room together. Lord knows just how far those two could run with this. Next thing he'd know, they'd be eradicating hunger on a global scale and ending wars.

Tris nods. "It's not really that difficult," she tells him. "But okay, an honesty pact it is."

"We'll just…feel this out and go from there, you know?" The thought stirs him, the idea of working to build this relationship between the two of them. It isn't exactly traditional. Then again, none of his life has been. He has a sneaking suspicion the same is true for Tris. Maybe this trial and error method is the only way to figure it all out.

Her answering soft smile reassures him of why he's doing this at all and that maybe, just maybe, it really will work out. Her "Okay," gives him tenuous hope for whatever this might become, complexities and all.


	17. Blush

**Hello all! So this is doozy of a chapter, isn't it? Can't really tell you what happened. It just kind of got away from me. But in a really good way, I think! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy reading it. I know it's ridiculously long but hopefully that's okay. Once again, a giant thank you to BK2U for editing this for me. I know she puts a lot of her own time into this and I really appreciate it. You all should send a thank you her way as well! Technically, the next update should be on Sunday. But I'm not going to lie to you guys. I'm tired, and I have plans for the weekend, most important of which are sleeping. So I'm really going to try and get that chapter written and sent in enough time to be edited, but it might not be up until Monday. I promise it won't be any later than that though and I hope you all understand. Thank you all again. Your consistent reviews and messages are really encouraging and some days the only thing that keeps me writing. So thank you! I hope you enjoy. Let me know your thoughts **

Tobias spends most of the night wondering if perhaps there is a scientific explanation as to why it's so much harder to sleep in one's own bed when you know there is someone else sleeping in the next room over. He closes his eyes when he first lies down, tells himself he'll sleep as he normally does, and then promptly thinks of Tris only to be wide awake all over again. He thinks of her quiet goodnight and her tiny legs in the tiny blue scrub pants. He can't help but imagine her on the couch, sleeping peacefully with her mouth open just slightly, just as she had slept in the hospital. He imagines the way she lays on her side and how her spine curves while she sleeps. He spends the whole night thinking of how Tris sleeps. It's embarrassing, really.

Telling himself over and over to just not think about her proves futile. So he turns over on his opposite side and closes his eyes, focusing his thoughts on business meetings or running techniques or whether it was Target or Walmart that carried the scent of dryer sheets he liked, only to then think of how Tris would handle a business meeting or if she'd enjoy running with him, and perhaps he should let her choose the dryer sheets now. Infuriating doesn't begin to explain his level of frustration by the time the sun starts rising.

He had dozed, he was sure, probably spending more time in the in-between twilight of sleep than anything else. He's gruff and worn down as his alarm goes off, loud and obnoxious in his otherwise quiet room, but he rises anyway. The shower is both a blessing and a curse. It wakes him up whilst making him miss the warmth of his bed. It soothes his muscles only to remind him why they're tense to begin with.

Saying goodnight had been no easy task, he recalls. As with every other detail of last night, it was awkward. They had finished dinner and she'd insisted on washing the dishes even though he said ten times that he has a dishwasher for that sort of thing. But still she washed and he jumped in and dried, because what else was he supposed to do? He chattered mindlessly about bread and how he tended to eat wheat because his dad had always made him eat it growing up and now it was what he liked, but hell, if she liked white he didn't mind getting white. Tris had listened politely and was decent enough not to hold his ten minute bread diatribe against him, or at least he didn't think she did. Jesus Christ, he thinks as he turns the water to a higher temperature, he had literally spent ten minutes talking about different types of bread. And fiber content! Who the hell talks about fiber content?

After that uncomfortable episode, the evening was simply past salvation. He'd excused himself to head off to bed, using work as an excuse to go to sleep before it was even nine pm. Then he showed her how the TV works, since the damn thing needed three remotes just to turn it on and bring up a program to watch. He reminded her four times to help herself to whatever she wanted. Then he left and didn't hear her move once all night.

A part of him is convinced he'll walk out of his bedroom to find her gone. Snuck out in the middle of the night, because who could imagine sharing an apartment with a man who cares about the wheat versus white debate so much? He still operates under the assumption that this is not the case, though. He does not walk out with a towel slung low around his hips as he stumbles to the kitchen to switch on the coffee pot. Nope, he makes sure to brush his teeth and run his fingers through his hair and get completely dressed before ever walking out of his room. It is so different from his usual routine that he's slightly disoriented.

Thank God he did all that, though, because she's definitely still there and holy hell she wears morning exhaustion much better than he does. She offers him a slight smile as he emerges and inclines her head to gesture towards the coffee pot. "I made some, if you want any."

The gratitude he feels can't be expressed in words. So he just smiles widely at her. "Good morning," he says, feeling far more in agreement with that statement than he had moments earlier. "Sleep well?"

Tris shrugs, taking a sip from her cup. "Pretty good. You?"

He has a sneaking suspicion that she's lying. "Perfectly." He lies, too. The honesty pact is irrelevant in terms of sleeping patterns as far as he's concerned. "I'm going to stop at the pharmacy on the way home tonight and get the meds the doctor prescribed, okay?" They probably should have gone last night, he recognizes in afterthought.

"Oh, you don't have to get those." She waves his comment away. As though it were not in reference to her own health.

Tobias actually laughs. "Stop being noble or whatever. You have to take your medication." Tris doesn't argue with his statement for once and he sighs in relief. "I can, um, make you a key if you want, too. That way you won't be stuck in the apartment all day."

She freezes, her back to him as she rinses out her cup, unresponsive now. She sets it down and turns slowly. "You shouldn't make me a key," she tells him solemnly.

Oh great, here she goes, telling him she's leaving again. Tobias decides he'll stand his ground, insist that she needs to stay in order to get well, that she needs to take her medicine and get better before he sets her out to die on the streets again. Maybe he could convince her to stay at least until the temperatures rise above freezing. "Tris…" he starts to say.

"No," she cuts him off. "I'm saying this under the terms of the honesty pact or whatever." She rolls her eyes at her own comment. "Just…you're not the brightest crayon in the box, Tobias."

He's stunned, his own turn to stay frozen for a moment. He tries to pretend that his mouth hasn't dropped open in shock, but saying it hasn't would be a lie. "Did you just utilize the honesty pact to call me an idiot?" He exaggerates his tone and overdramatizes acting offended.

"Not…stupid," she contests with such hesitancy that he becomes somewhat offended for real. "Just lacking common sense, perhaps."

"What does that mean?" he exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest and forgetting all about his coffee. Nothing like starting your morning with a healthy debate.

Tris shrugs, trying her best to be noncommittal about the whole matter. "What's my last name?" she asks him. He draws out an "Uhh" for a few seconds before she cuts him off. "Where am I from? Who are my friends? What are my hobbies? Why do I live on the streets?" She raises her eyebrows, her entire body issuing a challenge to him as she stands as tall as she can, though still so much shorter than him, and hovers close. "Can you answer any of those questions?"

The point she was trying to make comes across loud and clear. "No," he answers, even though he's pretty certain her question is rhetorical. This conversation was starting to feel like a parental lecture more than anything else.

"Exactly!" she throws her hands in the air and looks toward the ceiling as though the gods have just bestowed a gift upon her. "You don't even know me and you not only invite me into your home, but offer me a key to keep and to use as I please?" She wasn't telling him anything he didn't necessarily know, but it made sense in a completely different way hearing it from her. "You're rich, in case you didn't know. I could sell everything in here and live comfortably for a year without ever working."

He thinks it over, taking a long sip from his coffee. "Well, yeah, but you won't do that."

She eyes him skeptically, like a parent doubting her child's judgement skills. "You know nothing about me. How can you possibly know I won't sell all of your belongings for a mountain of heroin?"

"Simple," he answers, taking another sip of coffee and walking to the fridge behind her to pull out some milk. "You gave your coat away."

She stares at him like he's crazy, and Tobias is starting to think she might just try to punch some sense into him. "You might just be the biggest dumbass I have ever encountered," she tells him, shaking her head in exasperation.

Tobias just smiles at her and offers her the cereal box. "Enjoy your stay."

The office on Fridays feels the same as the office on any other day. Only the misinformed dressed down on casual Fridays. Marcus Eaton certainly did not, so neither would anyone who knew any better. Tobias always felt bad for any newbie who was foolish enough to fall into that trap and show up in sneakers and Levi's. The poor guy would stammer and stutter all day long looking completely out of place amidst all of the Gucci suits.

So even though Tobias feels so much lighter today walking out of his home and into the dreaded office building , he doesn't show it. He walks in as usual and approaches the day as neutrally as possible. After all, feeling overly positive never seems to work out well for him around here. He goes straight to his office and locks the door and pulls out all of his father's documents for the upcoming meeting, trying to absorb all of the statistics and graphs and suggested responses to expected questions and dedicate them to memory. It's proving to be impossible, however, since his mind won't focus in the slightest. He is too busy thinking of the girl he left back in his apartment.

Tris's little speech this morning had actually been comforting. Her pointing out her ability to steal all of his belongings just further confirmed his belief that she wouldn't. After all, a thief doesn't send you a letter explaining that he'll break into your house, nor does he suggest you update your security system before he does so. She had remained her usual stubborn self through the rest of breakfast. She was mildly insistent that he essentially lock her out of his apartment while he was at work. She claimed she could go sit in a coffee shop or something until he came home.

Perhaps he should have at least pretended to entertain the idea because Tris had seemed slightly offended at his calling her absurd. "You _did _call me an idiot earlier," he reminded her with a cheeky smile, and eventually she gave in.

He tries to study his papers, but finds that he can't focus on anything but his own thoughts. He keeps reading the same sentence of the first page one, two, eight, fifteen times before finally setting to work on mindlessly organising all of the papers. His focus was bad enough when it came to paying attention to things he didn't care about. Add on thoughts about something he perhaps cared too much about and it became a lost cause.

Sometime after all the lunch breaks and most of the important meetings of the morning are over, there's a knock on his door. "Come in," he calls, knowing very well that it's Christina.

"Hey," she smiles, walking in with an armload of papers and an open laptop. Watching her awkward balancing act is amusing him so much that it takes him a moment before he hops up and helps. "So your father asked how I was doing running this project on my own," she tells him as she takes a seat across from him.

"Oh?" Tobias asks, surprised that his dad even knew what Christina's job was. Lord knows Tobias hadn't had a clue up until he had started working with her.

She nods, setting the laptop on his desk and starting to pull out all of the papers and folders. "I knew better than to say anything about the fact that I'm, well, _not_, but…care to explain?"

Tobias feels a little guilty about her obvious nervousness. She must think that he is about to tell her that he will be abandoning her mid-project. Which, technically he is in a way, but not really. After all, his name will still be all over this thing. "Well, my dad is under the impression that this is taking a back burner over another project he gave me." And by back burner he really meant off the stove altogether.

Hesitating, Christina plucks away at her keyboard for a moment. "And?" she finally asks with trepidation. He's her only ally around here, at least the only one whose name has any weight.

"And technically I've dropped the project," he admits, speaking slowly because he really doesn't want to say it. "But actually, I'm still kind of doing all sorts of stuff for it. It's just a secret. From him, anyway."

The buzz of the fluorescents is somehow deafening as he waits. "So I guess that explains why your handwriting has gone from barely legible childish print to elegant, practiced penmanship?" she asks sarcastically, holding up the recent forms he'd been submitting of Tris's work.

"Ummm," he starts. "It's kind of a long story…" Now that Christina was confronting him Tobias realised just how shitty this whole setup really was. Tris was getting screwed out of receiving actual payment and credit, Christina was missing out on collaborating with someone who was still on top of things, and he was left to feel guilty about all of it. In fact, he wonders now if it's even legal to have Tris work without pay. It's certainly starting to feel pretty illegal.

Christina sighs and sets the papers down, reclining back in the chair and fixing him with a hard stare. "You mean to tell me you were just going to pretend like you were doing all of this when clearly you've passed this project on to an…" she pauses and Tobias winces in anticipation of what she might say. He hadn't reviewed Tris's work all that carefully but clearly Christina must have found it lacking. She wouldn't say anything otherwise. "...an actual genius."

"What?" he asks, surprised. "Are you serious?"

Her smile is practically giddy as she sits back up, enthusiasm written all over her face. "Seriously! I don't know who you got to do this, but they're brilliant."

Tobias can't help but feel foolish when he answers, "Really?" in complete shock.

"Totally!" She starts spreading everything out and pulls up documents on her computer to show him. "She knows her shit, and I don't just mean with all the homeless stuff. She knows what she's doing in terms of media exposure and project management, too."

Slack-jawed, Tobias sits stunned and silent for several moments. "Are you sure?"

Now she laughs and he joins in awkwardly because he doesn't know what else to do. "Don't take this the wrong way, Tobias, but whoever you recruited for this has it nailed down way better than you and I do."

Well he'll be damned. Once again, Tris has completely surprised him. He assumed her work was good, and it seemed thorough, too. He just never expected it to be exemplary.

"So, now that the cat is out of the bag," she says, flipping through more papers and smiling widely, "I'm going to need the extension of whoever is actually working on this so I can get together with them." Tobias can't help feeling a sting of disappointment. "Oh, don't look so sad, sweetie. You know you're my favourite co-creator of elaborate projects. You can come along, too, if you want."

He grunts noncommittally, but he's actually thankful for the bone he's being thrown. "I'm not sure of her extension actually…" he says, not sure where he should go with this next. Was Christina really going to insist on this? Should he put up a fight or just let it happen? The whole 'is this legal' concern is bothering him again, too. "I'll have to get back to you."

Her eyes evaluating him make him uncomfortable. He feels like a naughty child who's been caught in a lie. He needs to stop making friends with people that remind him of scolding parents. He thinks it's starting to give him anxiety. "I think she already left for today but I think she works on the…sixth floor if you want to check."

Her eyes narrow further and Tobias feels like slinking down in his chair. "Are you about to send me on a wild goose chase in order to try and keep whatever dumb little secret you think you still have?"

Looking everywhere but directly in her eyes, he hopes that he still looks innocent even though he's pretty sure he appears anything but. "No…"

She huffs and crosses her arms. "You know lying is morally wrong, right?"

"You know I'm technically still your boss, right?" he asks, playing the only card he thinks he has left.

The response is less than pleasant. "Excuse you, but who abandoned this project midway through and didn't bother to tell me?" she asks, launching into a full-on rant.

If Tobias has learned anything over the past 24 hours it's that there is a lot of truth in that old adage. Hell hath no fury…

Walking home that night he's really relieved that he already knows where to find Tris. He takes a shorter route home instead of his roundabout way past her usual corner. And, he isn't spending the entire walk home having an exhausting internal debate about which choice is more sound morally and logically. Just walking home is suddenly relaxing in a way he had not appreciated before.

The pharmacy is a quick stop. The CVS is warm and familiar and the sense of déjà vu hits him yet again. He grabs girly-sounding shampoo and soap while he's there. He even makes a spur of the moment decision to grab a girl's razor and shaving cream. Just in case she cares to use it. If not, well, hopefully someone will be in his life one day who can use it.

The doorman offers him a tip of his hat once he reaches the top of the stairs. "Got a nice little lady now, I see," the old man comments. Tobias wants to scowl at the distasteful comment, and he is reminded of the third shift doorman, the one who pretty much silently accused him of hiring a hooker. At least this man is old enough to be thinking less vulgar thoughts, hopefully. "About time."

Tobias just nods back a bit and walks inside. If only people would mind their own business so he could keep his to himself.

During the elevator ride he starts to feel a funny sense of anticipation. He can't decide if he feels nervous that she'll be gone, potentially with all of his belongings, or if he's simply excited to see her. Either one is probably not the right emotion to feel. Theoretically, he thinks he should be a little more nonchalant about this arrangement. But so far that hasn't happened naturally, nor does it seem possible for him to force himself to be.

Turning the key in the lock causes him to experience strange, conflicting emotions. He veers from not being able to get the door open fast enough to wishing he never had to open it at all. But open it he does. The scene he is greeted with is…surprising, to say the least.

The place is clean. The sort of clean that he hasn't known since he lived in his father's home. Since the time when Rosa would work every day cleaning the same things over and over. He is tidy, but he doesn't have the time or drive to be a perfectionist about cleaning. He swears his fucking sink is sparkling all the way to the damned doorway. And the whole house smells amazing. Tobias assumes that Tris has taken his request to cook seriously. It all feels just too clichéd to him. Working all day and then coming home to a woman who has cooked and cleaned the whole house. The thought seems so sexist that he physically shivers in aversion.

Thankfully, Tris doesn't appear in some frilly dress and pearls. Instead, she is decked out in another one of his pyjama pants with the drawstrings pulled tight and his T-shirt over top. He reminds himself again that she really needs some clothes of her own. There is something about seeing her in his, though, that makes much more reluctant to get them. Her hair is wet, presumably from a shower, and she easily looks the best he has ever seen her look. It's more than a bit entrancing.

Her nervous stance brings him sharply back to reality, reminding him that he needs to acknowledge her presence verbally and not just continue to stare. "Hey," he says. "I see you managed to stay busy."

Tris shrugs. "I got bored."

He scoffs in response. "Well, you didn't have to do all of…this," he gestures around, unsure of just what he was referencing. He could just tell that she'd put a lot of work into it. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I really do appreciate it, but shouldn't you be resting?"

"I rested for almost a week straight," she answers. "I need to do something besides rest or I will go crazy."

Tobias doesn't necessarily agree. In fact, he definitely recalls her doctor telling her to make sure she takes it easy for at least the next few days, but he does sympathise. There's something about feeling like dead weight that makes him particularly anxious, too. "Well, whatever makes you feel better, I guess. It smells delicious in here."

Tris's smile of accomplishment is small, but clearly there. He needs to remember to offer her compliments a little more often. "It's been a while since I've made a big dinner like this, but I hope it's okay."

With a wave of his hand to dismiss her concerns, Tobias kicks off his shoes and then carefully toes them into place. "Please, if you can make jarred sauce taste like fine dining I can only imagine what a proper meal will taste like."

She blushes, and Tobias decides that this compliment thing definitely needs to continue. She has a lovely blush.

"Shall we eat?" she offers, walking to the kitchen where she begins serving up the food she prepared. Steak and stir-fried vegetables and, dear god, was that homemade macaroni and cheese?

The plate Tobias takes is filled to the very edge with food. Tris's is just as full as his, he notes. She sits at her usual seat whilst Tobias fills two glasses with water for them and then joins her in the seat next to hers.

The silence that surrounds dinner isn't nearly as awkward as it was yesterday. Perhaps it's because they're both so occupied with eating, but neither of them feels inclined to engage in conversation for a solid ten minutes.

"We've been found out," Tobias finally says around a mouthful of steak.

At first, Tris doesn't say anything and when he glances over he sees genuine fear in her eyes. "What?" she chokes out, before she beings to cough and gasp.

Oh great, Tobias thinks, after all of this and she'll die sitting at his island, trying to eat dinner. Thankfully, she doesn't require his assistance, because he's just sitting there in frozen panic while she hacks away, until finally she gets it under control and takes a long drink of water. "Tris?" he asks and she waves away his concern.

"I'm fine," she assures him, trying to smile. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

He deliberates, caught between asking more and letting it go. "Christina, the girl at work who was helping with this project you've been working on for me, she's figured out that it's not me doing all of this work."

The relief on Tris's face is palpable. "Oh," she says, trying to seem like she's still concerned when she is clearly no longer anxious. "Is that a big problem for you?"

For a second he thinks of pushing her, and then he decides against it. Honesty policy or no, he doesn't expect her to spill her guts. "I'm not really sure. I will say that Christina would really like to talk to you, though."

She raises an eyebrow as she chews. "What? Why?" she asks.

Now Tobias can't help but grin, completely pleased with all of the compliments he's about to have the opportunity to unload on her. "Well, for one, I have never heard her speak so positively about anyone before. Even when she introduced her boyfriend she seemed relatively unimpressed. You, though? I couldn't get her to stop singing your praises."

Flabbergasted is the best word that comes to mind as Tobias watches her expression. "I don't…I don't think I understand."

"She says you've done amazing work, Tris." He decides to leave it at that, remembering the beauty of the simplicity they'd established before.

Tris doesn't say much more. Instead, she refocuses on her dinner. Tobias doesn't push the issue.

Once they're finished, she goes to gather the dishes and he has no choice but to cut her off. "Go take your medicines. I'll clean up."

She opens her mouth to argue but Tobias presses a finger against her lips to silence her. For a full second she remains there, too shocked to move, before she pulls back from his finger and closes her lips tightly. She looks petrified for a moment, but then wipes her expression in order to shoot him a fierce glare. "Shush me like that again and see what happens to your finger," she warns and he has to fight really hard not to laugh.

"Thanks for making dinner," he says twenty minutes later, while throwing himself down on the couch next to her. He feels weird, still being in his work clothes. Normally the first thing he does when he arrives home is strip down out of these awful constrictive clothes and throw on sweats or pretty much anything that isn't a suit and tie. But with Tris here, he doesn't know whether he is comfortable following his usual routine. "And, you know, cleaning my entire apartment."

Tris shrugs and then yawns, trying to hide it behind her hand. He can't help but chuckle at her a little. "Least I could do."

At first he goes to argue with her, but then decides better of it because now that she's sitting down Tobias is certain she won't stay awake for more than five minutes. She rubs at her eyes, looking almost delirious with fatigue.

He gets off of the couch and grabs her pillow that had fallen to the ground. She lays on it and he reaches for the blanket, covering her carefully. "Sorry," she sighs, snuggling under the blanket. "I think one of my prescriptions is making me drowsy."

Or, he thinks, a serious illness and no rest can wear you out, but he refrains from saying it. No point in riling her up right before she goes to sleep. "Goodnight, Beatrice Ivy," he says softly and she snorts.

"That's a horribly ridiculous name."

Tobias can't seem to stop himself, or maybe he could but just doesn't want to, so he leans close to her ear and whispers, "Well, maybe one day you can tell me what your real name is instead." His breath is so close that it moves the tiny hairs by her ear, and he sees her body shiver in response. He doesn't actually touch her, but she's exhausted enough and he's worn out enough that his lips do ghost across her cheek as he pulls away and neither of them do anything to stop it. "See you in the morning," he tells her as he switches off the light and lets the darkness envelop and conceal them both.


	18. Happy

**So I know I said Monday but…surprise! I had some free time Saturday and decided to start the chapter and ended up finishing. It's another long one too so I hope you liked this sort of length in them. It's mostly just a fluff chapter but it was fun to write and should also be enjoyable to read I think. **

**I know I say this every chapter but seriously, all of the thanks to BK2U. She totally saved two of the paragraphs I'd written and made them infinitely better. Not to mention all of the wonderful editing she does for the chapter in its entirety. So much thanks to her from now until eternity.**

**Let me know your thoughts on our dear character's progression. There are most plot twists and conflict to come, I promise you that! Sorry that I've yet to reply to some of your messages from a several days back. I'll get to them soon, I swear. Anyway, hope you enjoy and next chapter you can expect to post sometime on Wednesday. Thanks again!**

Last night's "Goodnight" had been something out of a movie, Tobias decides. The morning is sure to be back to more of their usual. The usual, however, is an absurd concept in and of itself. How can there be any predetermined expectations of how a situation will pan out when it is still brand new?

Tobias likes to think to himself that he knows her. He likes to think he knows just what to expect and in just what manner she'll behave. He thinks that now he'll be able to peg what she's thinking and how she'll drink her coffee in the mornings. He feels certain he knows what time of day she likes to shower and all of her nervous tendencies.

But the truth, he realises very quickly, is that he still doesn't really understand her at all. So when Friday night has faded into Saturday morning, Tobias doesn't bother with suits and ties; not today, of course. He does still brush his teeth and take a shower and run his fingers through his hair. At first he doesn't really think he's stalling, but after he changes the pillow cases and the sheets from his bed he decides that perhaps he is.

When finally he gives up and emerges from his room he does a brief scan of the rest of his apartment. The initial panic that starts to build when he doesn't find her on the couch or drinking her coffee in the kitchen doesn't dissipate until he does see her. She's sitting in the dining room, head in her hands, staring down at the table. It's an odd sight, to say the least, to see someone zoned out in a place so decidedly out of character for them. He never would have expected to find her in that stiff, formal room with its elaborate chandelier sparkling overhead.

It's her focus that throws him off the most. She stares down intently, her gaze never shifting and her head never moving. She's scarily still. At first, Tobias thinks she's just ignoring him as he walks into the dining room and hovers in the doorway. Surely she's heard his footsteps or felt his presence.

But still she does not move. He walks around the table to the side she sits on and sits down next to her. He breathes in time with her for a minute, trying to see if she'll catch his eye or look over at him. "Tris?" he finally feels forced to ask. His tone remains quiet but it breaks the stifling silence. "Hey, are you okay?" The concern in his tone fills the air around them, settling over the room like a heavy blanket.

When she still doesn't respond he reaches his hand out and rests it, very lightly, on her upper arm. Now he holds his breath, careful not to startle her further.

Tris's response is slow. Eventually he sees her eyes shut and then open again several seconds later. She raises her head from where it was resting in her hands and looks down at his hand on her arm. He takes that as his signal to move it off of her. She pulls her hands together onto her lap and twists them together. "You have a very nice dining room," she finally says in a distant voice.

Her eyes still don't meet his and whatever response Tobias may have had dies in his throat. He can't help himself, even though he tries to, and he finally turns his thoughts to ponder in what other ways she could be sick. He knew there were statistics, aren't there always? They have statistics on how frequently homeless individuals also have a mental illness. A big causation versus correlation debate carried out from it at one point, he remembers. It had been a bit careless of him not to consider this possibility before bringing her into his home. They'd just have to find a way to deal with this now, he decides.

But then she surprises him, yet again. Instead of talking to people who aren't there or losing her temper and trying to kill him, she just kind of shakes her head and finally meets his gaze. She fixes a smile to her face. "Sorry," she tells him as she rolls her eyes at herself. "I think these meds are doing weird shit to my brain. Your table is very nice though."

"Er, thanks?" he answers in question. So much for knowing what was going on. Tobias decides to swear off indulging in any further predictions about her. "I've never actually used it."

Her eyes are sad as she looks at him for a moment before looking away again. "Let's eat here tonight, okay?" she asks.

Tobias shrugs, "Yeah, sure."

When she gets up a moment later he watches her carefully, trying to place what's so off about all of this. "I'm going to take a shower." He doesn't comment that she'd showered just the night before, nor does he offer her anything to eat for breakfast first. He just smiles and nods and watches her walk away. His attention is called back to where she had just been sitting when he sees the small drops of water on the glossy table's surface.

Tris isn't sick, not like that, at least. She doesn't have schizophrenia or bipolar disorder or depression. Tobias's heart breaks when he realises that she'd just been crying.

* * *

><p>Perhaps he overcompensates after this discovery. He starts by attempting to make pancakes for breakfast. Then he tries to hide the fact that he burnt the pancakes by turning on the fan and opening all of the windows. He is in the process of hunting for a candle when Tris comes out of the bathroom. He's not sure how long she's been standing there when he finally finishes rooting through the drawers only to turn around and see her.<p>

She slowly raises her eyebrows at him, giving him a knowing smirk. But her pose only lasts for so long before she crosses her arms over her chest as a gust of wind blows through the apartment. "I'm not exactly sure what you were trying to do," she tells him as she begins forcing all of the windows closed again. "But I have a pretty good feeling it must have involved a stove in some capacity."

His response is completely lost when she laughs at him. She walks over and plucks the spatula he's still grasping in his right hand away from him, surveying his work. She just shakes her head as she picks up the pan and begins scraping all of the pancake remnants into the trash. "You know," he says with a sigh, "it started with the best of intentions."

"As did the road to hell," she retorts.

"It looked simpler online," he adds, watching the pieces of charred pancake fall into the trash can with a resounding splat.

The pan is mostly clean when she gives up and turns the hot water on, leaving the pan to soak in the sink. "That's the problem," she sighs. "It _is_ simple."

Watching her carefully, Tobias tries to detect any signs of her earlier sadness. But there is no slump to her shoulders, no red tinge to her eyes, and certainly no tears falling to the countertop. Tris begins searching through his kitchen, in search for what he assumes is another pan. "I just have a pot and a quesadilla maker left," he tells her, and she abandons rifling through the cabinets to stand up and stare at him.

"You mean to tell me you have enough designer suits to open a boutique and yet you only own one frying pan?" The way she puts her hands on her hips after she finishes talking sends Tobias's heart into an offbeat rhythm. He tries to fight the smile that crosses his lips.

It's a battle that's been lost before it ever had the chance to begin. It starts with a chuckle, but doesn't take long to dissolve into full on laughter. He doesn't know why it's so hilarious to him, perhaps because nothing else this morning has been, but he literally cannot help himself.

When she chucks the dishtowel at him it doesn't help matters in the slightest. "I don't even know how you're still alive," she tells him and even though she's doing her best to sound disgruntled, the note of amusement in her voice is not lost on him.

"Mainly McDonalds," he answers, straightening himself back up and wiping at the tears of laughter that were trickling from his eyes. He takes the box of cereal out of the cupboard, much like yesterday morning, and goes to grab the milk from the fridge only to find it gone.

When he shuts the fridge she's hunched over on the side, startling him. "Jesus, Tris," he says and she smiles cheekily at him.

"What's your next plan?" she asks. Her utter lack of faith in him really makes him wish he had some other weapons in his food arsenal.

He has a sneaking suspicion that she will scoff at his plan to consume the cold, leftover pizza on the bottom shelf of his fridge. "You know, you're awfully critical for someone who was homeless up until a few days ago." Tris seems to take his statement in stride and silently contemplates it for a moment. Ultimately, she chooses not to comment. "Well, we'll just have to break down and get dressed. We'll go out to breakfast."

Her ensuing silence does not go unnoticed, but Tobias behaves as if his proposal was received with enthusiasm.

It's rather silly, the amount of time he spends back in his room rifling through his drawers for something to wear. After all, he wears a suit every day. Looking presentable is not just important, but necessary in his line of work. He tends to look far nicer and more professional than anyone else in those clothes, but now the problem is he that he doesn't need a suit at all. He needs the sort of clothes guys wear every day.

Sure, he has T-shirts and jeans and those weird polo things with the collars. But he doesn't normally need to know how to coordinate them. Nor has he ever worried about it before. But for once in his life he finds himself comparing and contrasting everything and even trying to properly comb his hair instead of just running his fingers through it and calling it done.

He comes out of his room twenty minutes later in a dark T-shirt and a pair of jeans he didn't even know that he owned with the tags still attached. It's simple but it works, he thinks, when he looks in the mirror. He feels very average.

Tris has put her scrubs back on. When he sees her the stupidity of his earlier proclamation hits him in the face. Tris doesn't have any other clothes to put on. "It'll just look like I'm going to work," she jokes and he smiles half-heartedly in response. The guilt is a bit overwhelming. He'll have to rectify this as soon as he possibly can.

There's little point in apologising, Tobias decides, seeing as it would probably just embarrass her further. Instead, he just reaches into the closet and pulls out a coat for himself and tosses her another.

They both get into the elevator outside of his apartment and she pushes the button for the first floor. It's silent except for the quiet beep that denotes each passing floor.

They finally reach the bottom and Tobias ignores the other two residents that are hovering in the lobby whilst Tris smiles at both of them and says hello. "What?" she asks, when Tobias shoots her a look like she's crazy.

"M'lady," he says as he holds the front door open for her, shooing the doorman's hand away. Tris rolls her eyes at him but he can see a hint of a smile starting to form as she steps past him.

He follows her out onto the crowded weekend sidewalk, dotted with residents travelling to and from their destinations with their donuts and shopping bags. Different from the other morning crowd he experiences each day, in volume more than anything else.

At first, he's uncertain of where to go. It's all a bit strange. After all, this isn't a date. Nevertheless, it seems a bit tacky to actually take her to a McDonald's for breakfast. The idea hits him as soon as he starts considering where to go and he can't help but wonder why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Tris breathes in deeply and he watches the condensation her breath creates in the air as she exhales. She walks openly, her arms swinging by her sides and her legs moving slightly quicker than his in an attempt to keep pace. She's so small, he thinks for the umpteenth time. Not just in weight, but also in height. She barely meets his shoulder. Tobias can't help but think how cute it seems.

Once again, he holds the door for her when they reach the café, the very same one they'd come to the first night they'd spent any significant time together. It had only been a few weeks ago, but he still has an odd sense of nostalgia and possessiveness for this place. As if this is their spot alone.

It's emptier than the last time they were in here, and quieter, too. There's no one in the corner playing guitar and the dinner rush has been replaced by a few sleep-deprived college kids and a mom with two hyperactive boys. The quiet atmosphere makes for a more serene feeling. Tobias places his order first, coffee and a bagel, and then Tris does the same, repeating his own order.

They take their seats shortly after and Tobias smiles when he realises they've migrated over to the same table they sat at before. Both of them sit and watch a couple of teenagers set their books down and immediately start making out. Tris cocks her head as she watches them, almost like she's preparing to report on the behaviours of young homo sapiens in the wild. "Gross," Tobias throws out there, to try and regain her attention.

Tris wrinkles her nose before turning away. "I'm pretty sure he set a timer before they started."

Now Tobias laughs at the genius of it all. This must be their study break. It's at times like these that Tobias almost wishes he'd gone to college. "So," he says, trying to kick start them both into conversation. "I have a few errands to run today. Are you interested in joining me?"

She looks uncertain as she contemplates his offer and, he notices, she glances down at herself. Even her own confidence in her previous idea had wavered. "Yeah, that'll be fine."

First order of business will be to get her some things she needs. Before that, he has to think of how he can convince her to let him. "Tris?" he says and her head snaps up to meet him. Her eyes are wide and he swears they sparkle as they meet his. Her lips fall slightly open and then she licks them absurdly slowly and takes a sip of her coffee. He clears his throat and sits up straight, realising a moment too late that he has been leaning close to her. "I was thinking we could get you some stuff of your own to wear." The way he says it makes him feel like a jerk, not least because of his rising disappointment over the fact that he won't come home to the sight of her in his favourite sweat pants again. "Just so you're more comfortable."

Undoubtedly, he had been expecting a fight. He thought for sure she would roll her eyes and tell him no and insist on painting his walls or something to earn it. Instead, she thinks for a second and then shrugs her shoulders. "That would be nice. Thank you, Tobias."

He swears to himself that he will never be able to anticipate what she is going to do next. "Oh," he says in surprise. "Well, that's great, most of the places I shop have women's clothes, too, so I guess we can start there."

For a brief moment there's no response, and then she swallows the bite of bagel that had been in her mouth. "That's a joke, right?"

Tobias isn't sure how to reply. "No?"

Now Tris just kind of chuckles at him and swings her hand in his direction as if to shoo him off. "I am not going anyplace that expects me to pay 200 dollars for a pair of jeans."

"I'm the one paying for it," he answers with a shrug of his shoulders. "It doesn't really matter to me."

Now Tris pauses very deliberately. She sets her cup down and crosses her legs, leaning back in her seat. "It matters to me. It's ridiculous and unnecessary to spend all of that money when you can get the same exact thing for far cheaper."

There's no real point in arguing with her. He had certainly bought plenty of shirts at Target in the past. Surely she'll approve of that place as reasonably priced enough. "I mean, if that's what you really want."

Tris crosses her arms and sits up a little straighter. "It's not like you have to fucking buy anything for me."

Her response, her change of demeanour, even the way she sits completely catches him off guard. There's a brief flash of panic, as if he's upset her in some way, before he thinks rationally again. "Why do you always do that?"

The defensive side of her causes her to sit up taller again, but the way she bites her lip reveals the anxiety that is just below the surface. "I don't know what you're talking about," she tells him although Tobias is fairly certain she does.

"You know," he shrugs, "When we'll just be talking and you get intimidated so you start cursing left and right and you hold yourself like an army general? That thing."

After he says it he can't help feeling nervous. Tris seems like a skittish deer to him. She has a tendency to dart away at the slightest unfamiliar sound. And once she starts going she vanishes deep into the forest. Or, sometimes she'll be caught off guard in the metaphorical headlights of life and remain frozen and unmoving on a sidewalk, stuck in shock. It's a bit unfair, perhaps, but a seemingly accurate comparison regardless. "I don't know what you're talking about," she mutters but relaxes back into her seat. Tobias smiles into his coffee cup. He's finally pegged her right for once.

* * *

><p>It's been fairly successful, Tobias decides about an hour later as he's sliding his credit card through the card reader of the self-checkout. Tris is a methodical shopper. She doesn't go for anything stylish or for the things displayed on the mannequins. She doesn't even try things on. Instead, she goes straight for the back walls and the shelves with multi-coloured long sleeved shirts and sweaters. She's careful to select the cheapest brand of jeans and she doesn't hesitate to grab the warmest pair of sweat pants she can find.<p>

At one point she pulls out a few coats, only to look at the tags and quickly put them back. Tobias tries his best not to say anything. He does comment, "Mine looks better on you anyway," which has the exact effect he desires as she flushes a bright red and walks away entirely from the outerwear section.

Once again she blushes, though for an entirely different reason as she walks to the Intimates section. She remains composed, however, and Tobias thinks he does the same. He contemplates walking away or standing on the outside of the aisles, but decides both of those things are far more immature and awkward than just browsing through Hanes underwear with her. She grabs two packages and a dozen pairs of socks to throw into the cart. He tries not to smirk over the fact that she seems to always go for the vibrant, practically neon colours. When she grabs a bra she pulls down the same one in two different sizes. Her embarrassment must outweigh her practicality for once as she just throws both of them in the cart and walks away.

As they load the bags back into the cart Tobias surveys what she's gotten and feels a sense of accomplishment. He wonders if this is why parents feel proud at the end of the day, because they've managed to feed and dress and care for a helpless little person all on their own. He isn't quite up to that standard, but still, he feels pleased that he is able to help her in these little ways. "Do you need anything else?"

Tris seems to consult a mental list before shaking her head. "I think I have everything," she tells him. "We can go finish the rest of your errands now."

Oh, crap, he'd forgotten about that ruse. Truthfully, he doesn't really have any errands to run. So he tries opening his mouth to say that but nothing comes out. "You don't actually have errands, do you?" Tobias shakes his head abashedly, and that's how he ends up getting smacked in the arm at the front end of Target. "Lying bastard," she comments with an air of humour so heavy Tobias laughs at her.

"Come on, then" she instructs as she grabs the bags from the cart and starts leading the way. "There's a grocery store down the street a bit, and you are in desperate need of food."

"But I just went grocery shopping!" he counters as he takes some of the bags from her.

She hands him a bunch of them and redistributes the remaining ones between both her hands. "Well, maybe you did, but I've been hard pressed to find anything that doesn't have 'instant' stamped across the front."

Now he doesn't know whether to argue or give in. "I bought steaks," he comments sullenly.

She pats his arm like he's a toddler in need of comfort. "And we already ate them."

So he follows her to the grocery store and pushes the cart behind her as she weighs and squeezes and listens to all sorts of fruits and vegetables. She tries to explain how certain foods are better because they're more versatile and how to ensure Brussels sprouts don't end up being bitter. Were it anyone else giving him such a lesson he'd probably fall asleep while pretending to listen, but with Tris speaking he hangs off of her every word. He might not actually register any of it, but that seems beside the point.

By the time they're done and walking home the sun is high in the sky and the afternoon temperatures have hit their peak of slightly above freezing. Tris is laughing as he talks about the absurd men in his meeting the other day, and she bumps her shoulder against his, the bags from their shopping excursions filling all of their hands.

Tobias can't help but think how wonderful it all feels to him. Not just the shopping or the laughing, but the heavy bags weighing him down because he only wants her to carry the light ones and all of the dishes he knows they'll be washing together tonight. He's pleased with everything, from the bickering they did at the grocery store over Pop Tarts to the way Tris plays with her hair when she's trying to retrieve information. It's all a bit magical, he thinks. Being able to share the simplest things in life with someone else.

It's when he swings open the door to his apartment and Tris toes her shoes carefully into place and begins putting things away that it all hits him. She is in his life, maybe just for today, probably not for forever, but right now he is sharing every little aspect of his life with her in the most intimate ways possible. Shortly after he acknowledges that fact another becomes strikingly and achingly apparent. He is _happy_.


	19. Falling Slowly

**Hello again! Sorry it is so late in the day but it's been a crazy few days. Bad news is I've come down with something awful and all I want to do is sleep. Good news is I have been accepted into my school's nursing program! It is a very competitive program so I am very pleased to have been accepted. So sorry this chapter is on the short side but I do hope you'll like it! As always, big thanks to BK2U for her help. She also had a wonderful idea for an addition to this chapter so kudos to her for that too :) Once again, thanks to all of you for your support. Expect another update on Saturday some time!**

Companionship has the ability to make almost anything more enjoyable. At least that's what Tobias decides when he and Tris both end up falling onto the couch to begin working. After the groceries are stashed away they both feel at a loss for what to do next. Tris bit her lip and Tobias opened and closed the fridge four different times. Finally, he mentions his massive project, the one he prefers to pretend doesn't exist, and Tris exudes enthusiasm when she brings up her own work as well.

Right before they get started, she disappears into the bathroom and puts on the new heavy sweat pants she just bought. Tobias smiles widely when he sees she still wears his T-shirt.

Working with Tris is fun in ways that Tobias had never imagined possible. They kick their bare feet up on the coffee table and Tris shuffles through all sorts of papers. She mumbles to herself while she concentrates, he notes fondly. Anytime she has a long train of thought or she's trying to connect two different pieces together, she'll just ramble quietly to herself whilst drawing little air diagrams. It's rather adorable, Tobias can't help but think.

The best part of working next to her is that she is so willing to put her own work aside to help him when he gets frustrated. She listens to his poorly constructed sentences and helps rewrite them. She pulls the packet he's studying out of his hands and quizzes him on things she doesn't even know the answers to herself. He passes the jumbled papers he made notes on over to her and she scratches out different portions of his scribbled handwriting and fills the margins with her tiny calligraphy. Her edits complement his original work, creating a flow that is far more polished than anything he could ever create on his own.

Periodically, she tells him to freeze and reads off her own thoughts, asking for his input. At one point, she pulls out an old map from her pile of papers and starts drawing on it. She mutters phrases like "maximum media exposure" and "distribution logistics." She's sexy when she's thinking. Quite frankly, she is also a natural at all of this stuff. She is the ideal business partner his father would kill to have.

Eventually, when the sun has finally given up for the day and snow has started falling gently outside the window, Tobias gets up and makes them both hot chocolate. Tris teases him by praising his ability to not set off the smoke alarm - this time. She grabs the stack of papers on her lap and throws them on the coffee table, kicking her feet up and laying her head back as she sips. "This reminds me of studying for finals," she says, her face filling with a warm, nostalgic smile.

One day, he thinks, Tobias will be less surprised by Tris and her proper, normal life before he was ever in it, but he's just not sure when that will be. "I never studied for finals," he admits.

She turns her head to face him, never lifting it from the back of the couch. Her eyes are heavy and glossy, like someone primed for sleep. "Were you that kid in school who always just knew everything?" Her tone holds the note of envy.

He can't help but scoff at the thought. "As if," he says. "My teachers always just gave me good grades." Tris's expression reflects her momentary confusion . "My dad was almost singlehandedly responsible for keeping the school open thanks to his donations."

The words sit between them for a minute before she speaks again. "A bit sad, isn't it?" She sips at her hot chocolate again and lets the statement simmer slowly. "Never having the initiative to work for something like that."

Now he can't help but feel defensive. "I don't mean that I never learned anything, just…I didn't have to worry about tests or grades." He shrugs his shoulders at the memory of showing up to school free of the pressures his other classmates faced. Of course, that doesn't mean he wasn't met with his own fair share of issues to deal with, but he wasn't about to bring those up. "Maybe I actually learned more because I never had to worry about the damned tests."

"Fair enough. My family put a lot of emphasis on grades." He can imagine it all easily. A slightly younger Tris who looked like an entirely different person because she didn't yet have the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. He pictures her at a dining room table with her parents, sitting around talking about the Mayans and Newton's First Law. He envisions her dad showing up to her spring chorus and her mom bringing flowers to the middle school graduation. He imagines a picturesque life; one Tobias unfairly envies her for. "My brother was always the brainiac."

The statement catches him so off guard he almost spills hot chocolate on himself as he starts to take his next sip. "You have a brother?" he asks in an urgent tone. This information felt vital, for whatever reason. He adds a little brother to the picture, maybe a kid with glasses who looks up to his big sister and studies hard to be as smart as her. He seems like he must be a great brother.

Tris doesn't really say much about him at first, just takes a long drink. When she swallows she seems to consider the flavour that still rests in her mouth. "Had, I guess," she bites her lip and looks down. "But yeah, my older brother actually almost went to Princeton."

Older brother? Okay, so that changes the imagery a bit. Now he's a bigger guy who is hell bent on protecting his little sister. He gets all defensive when she brings boys home and spends his time helping her prepare for her own exams. "Princeton, eh?" Tobias asks. "Bit pretentious, don't you think?"

Once again, Tris doesn't really have to speak to get her point across. The set of her eyebrows matched with the quirk of her lips seems to say it all for her. "Have you seen where you live?" she asks aloud, though he's already heard her thought loud and clear.

"Totally different," he counters and now she just rolls her eyes at him. Tobias decides against pushing the topic further but does store this new knowledge for further investigation. She is an enigma wrapped in a hard shell protected by barbed wire. Sorting his way through is proving difficult, to say the least.

Tris sighs loudly and gathers more of the papers that surround them while attempting to fold up her map. "I can't look at this anymore," she says, stacking everything together and tucking it under the table.

"Same," Tobias concurs as he repeats her actions.

Despite the setting sun and the mild exhaustion they are both feeling, it's only a little after seven pm. Damn the sun for setting absurdly early in these winter months. They sit side by side, not saying much of anything, sipping their hot chocolate. Tris stares out the window and a hint of a smile forms on her lips. Her eyes sparkle as she watches the snow outside and Tobias finds it captivating how someone who has suffered so much misery from the elements can still appreciate their beauty .

"Pretty, isn't it?" he asks and her head turns to meet his again. She blushes and Tobias can't help but smile fondly at her. He fights his desire to reach his hand out and cup the side of her face. She is so lovely. The thought resounds in his mind so loudly there is room for little else.

She ducks her head down from his gaze for a long moment before looking back up. "I was just thinking how wonderful it was to watch the snow fall through a living room window again."

Tobias doesn't know why, but her statement makes his heart leap in his chest. Maybe it's the knowledge that he is providing her that opportunity. Maybe it's just the sound of her voice at all.

The way her hand reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ear sends Tobias's stomach plummeting. Because something becomes abundantly clear as he watches her shy smile and her gentle hands. He is falling for her; slowly but steadily falling for the girl from the streets.

"What?" she finally asks when she notices his eyes still remain on her several seconds later.

Shaking his head he runs his own hands through his hair, trying to collect himself. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out."

Again they fall silent. It isn't a particularly awkward silence, however, it creates a void that Tobias wishes he knew how to fill. He contemplates turning on the television, only to decide against it. It never has been his favourite background noise. Instead, he just listens to Tris' quiet breathing and the satisfied sigh she lets out with each sip of her drink.

The silence is disturbed when she sets her now empty cup down, somehow breaking the trance both of them have fallen into. "So, what about you?" she asks, turning her body to face him and tucking her legs underneath her on the couch. "Any siblings or family traditions or anything?"

The question gives him pause. Tobias doesn't talk about his family. He doesn't mention the secret demons of his father or his dead mother. But he still feels obligated to give her something. A give and take of sorts. "No siblings, not much in terms of traditions either," he shrugs, feeling like his words hold no weight. "My mother died when I was really young."

"Oh," Tris breathes out, the word tinged with pain. "I'm so sorry," she says. He's heard it a dozen times before, all kinds of apologies and condolences as soon as he admits the unfortunate past. It's one of the reasons he hides his mother's death from anyone who doesn't specifically need to know. The pity and the sad eyes and reassuring hands is all so…superficial to him. He doesn't want someone's momentary sadness directed towards him.

But Tris speaks with sincerity. Her few words carry the weight of someone well aware of how such loss feels. He's tempted to ask the state of her parents, or this brother she revealed to him. Are they all dead and gone now? Is that how she'd wound up left for dead on the streets? It's too personal of a question to ask. He'll have to wait for her to offer it up, just as she has waited for him.

Tobias shrugs away her apology out of habit. The truth-tinged words are still too much for him to take. "It happened," is all he says.

"What about your dad?" she asks, and he wishes he hadn't cringed the way he always does at this question.

What _about_ his dad? His dad is an asshole. His dad drinks. His dad hits, hard. His dad is the complete opposite of the man Tobias wants to be. "Oh, you know, he works a lot."

She watches him, waiting for him to embellish, but when a few beats pass and she sees he isn't going to add anything else, she continues. "My dad worked a lot, too. My mum got so angry when he wasn't home in time for dinner." Tris smiles fondly at the memory. "On nights like these my brother and I would stay up late hoping school would be cancelled and our mother would bake cookies with us until midnight. She'd put on Christmas music even if it was the middle of February."

His smile starts slowly until it takes over his whole face, the imagery he'd painted earlier quickly replaced by the scene she describes. He now imagines a little ten year old Tris, two braids in her hair and clad in pyjamas as she stirs cookie dough, all gap-toothed and even shorter than she is now. "Do you miss your parents?"

At first, she seems surprised to see him still sitting there. Then she bites her lip and turns away. "I suppose." Her voice is distant but final. This topic is closed. For a brief moment Tobias fears she may begin crying. Leave it to Tris to prevent that from happening. "What about friends?" she chimes in with instead.

"Friends?" he asks, weighing the word in his mouth carefully. He had friends, sure, but they were few and far between. His buddies from high school were grown now, moved on to real lives with school and partying or careers and families. Sure he swapped Facebook comments with a few of them from time to time, but he would hardly consider them friends. "Not a ton of them," he shrugs. "That girl at work, the one who's running the project I gave you, she's kind of a friend."

"Girlfriend?" Tris asks, her voice filled with feigned disinterest as she picks at one of her finger nails, avoiding his eyes.

Tobias tries not to sputter and embarrass himself further. He has no doubt that now it is his face turning a bright red though. "No," he answers quickly. "No girlfriend." Then he clears his throat and pretends to be innately fascinated with the inside of his empty hot chocolate mug. If only the undissolved chocolate flakes could spell out his future for him like tea leaves.

The silence that hovers between them afterwards is not the same easy silence they'd rested in earlier. Tris coughs and Tobias nearly jumps out of his skin. The tension that grows between them is thick, and he feels relatively certain that he's made it all up himself, because she looks to be the picture of relaxed. He wonders if the small smile on her face is another illusion he's creating.

"We never had dinner." Tris finally blurts out, the words expanding through the silence to alleviate the awkwardness.

It takes a moment, but soon Tobias realises she's quite right. So much for experiencing the marvellous dining room dinner together. "Tomorrow?" he asks. Tris nods and then clambers off of the couch and makes her way to the kitchen.

"I'm not going to wait until tomorrow to eat, though!" she laughs, pulling out leftover spaghetti from the fridge and preparing a bowl for the both of them.

He joins her in the kitchen and hops up onto the countertop, watching her with a sly smile on his face. "What?" she asks at his mischievous grin.

The joy bubbles just beneath the surface again and he forgets about the asshole dad and the dead mum and the lack of siblings. The loneliness of his past can't outweigh the companionship of right now. It doesn't matter, he decides, if he's falling for her slowly or all at once. He's just struck with the startling realisation that he's so grateful to have the opportunity to fall for her at all.


	20. Anchor

**Sorry! I know this is super late and I am SO sorry for that. Seriously, I could give you a list of excuses but we'll just boil it down to me getting called in to work really shitty hours for a rather long time unexpectedly which cut in to my pre-planned writing time. It threw me off entirely and completely destroyed my sleeping schedule. But thankfully somehow this has been pieced together even though it is quite late. It is pretty long though so at least there's that, right? Once again, of course of course of course, thank you to my lovely editor BK2U who always does such a good time correcting things like my stupid tenses or my lack of punctuation or my awkwardly phrased sentences. She always just seems to know what will help the chapter flow best and what just doesn't work. So just more thanks in her direction.**

**Okay, once again thank you for your reviews and support. I know I've hardly responded to any of you this chapter around, sorry! But I will be better about it this time, I swear. Next chapter on Thursday, for real this time. Thank you all again and I hope you enjoy! Oh, also, if you leave me a question in a review but either have your pm blocked or are not logged in, I won't answer it here, sorry. So just shoot me a message or something and I will happily reply to you!**

Spaghetti dinner on the couch had turned into a lively debate on the origins of pasta (Tris had been right, of course) and eventually watching some crappy TV. Neither of them are quite the vivacious twenty-year-olds that one might expect them to be, as both had nodded off around one in the morning with the television lights still illuminating the space around them. Tris had curled up on her end, using the overly stiff armrest of the couch as a pillow. Tobias had slept with his head thrown back and his feet kicked up on the coffee table.

When he wakes up Tris is still fast asleep, her feet burrowed underneath his leg for warmth. The sunlight has only just begun to squeeze through the cracks of the curtains, setting strips of the room alight. Tobias holds very still at first, not daring to move too much for fear of waking Tris. He does lift his head and watch her, taking in the quiet rise and fall of her chest and the gentle fluttering of her eyelids as she dreams. He wonders what she dreams about.

The TV continues to play some muted cartoon. Tobias has no memory of turning the sound off. In fact, he doesn't even have a memory of falling asleep at all. He remembers that Tris kept rubbing at her eyes and yawning, and he remembers asking her if she wanted him to leave so she could sleep. She had vehemently replied no, he should stay.

Perhaps it was a small victory, in the grand scheme of things. Just having her doze off wasn't really anything to do cartwheels over, but she had asked him to stay. The memory causes Tobias's face to break into a wide grin of its own accord.

He sits there silently, watching the mischievous rat on the television attempting to steal some cheese through eight different failed attempts. His eyelids are growing heavy again, either from the boring cartoon or the stillness of the room surrounding him. Alas, as soon as it feels like he has fallen back into a light slumber, his cell phone screeches to alert him of an incoming call.

Picking it up, Tobias fumbles with the phone for a minute, trying to mute the obnoxious ringer before it can wake Tris. His eye catches the caller's name and his stomach sinks, his hope to just silence the phone now vanished, as he dejectedly answers the call. "Hello, Father," he says, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Tobias," Marcus responds, the word clipped and filled with irritation, or so he thinks. "We need to talk."

Tobias feels cold dread consume him from the inside out as his father utters those words that he assumes would terrify anyone, regardless of whether they had a childhood like his. "About what?" he questions, trying to sound casual and dropping his previous tone of annoyance.

His father sighs, the heavy kind of sigh that Tobias recalls hearing whenever Marcus was tired. It was exasperation, not anger. That fuelled his fear even more. "I'm not young enough for this sort of thing anymore, Tobias."

The odd statement gives him pause and he waits, expecting his father to continue. "Uh, okay?" he replies to break the silence.

"I don't know exactly what you're doing with your money and you know I've hardly ever asked." His father is right, despite all of the other ways in which Tobias's life is controlled he does have free reign over his, or more accurately, his father's money. He's had a credit card since he was twelve years old and has never been dumb enough to get himself into trouble with it. When your parent has endless amounts of money it's not like they care what you buy all that much. Funny how little an Xbox really matters at the end of the day. "But why the hell am I seeing charges for ER copays?"

Shit. Hospitals had certainly never been favoured by his father, which was a bit of an understatement. As a kid, Tobias was essentially banned from them. The family had a private physician, one of which had discretely set Tobias's bones in the past without comment or question. Hospitals would have asked a lot more questions, and they both knew that Marcus would not have tolerated that. "I don't spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for you to visit some half-assed ER doctor who got his degree at some dumpy community college."

The fact of the matter is that Tobias is an adult now, and has been for nearly three years. There are scars, sure, and his X-rays probably show some intense calcification in certain areas, but he no longer lives in Marcus' house. His dad's hands are not as familiar as they'd once been. The evidence has been buried with the passing years. Going to the hospital isn't as risky at 21 as it was at 12. His father still doesn't like the idea, apparently. And just as his father's dislike of certain things hasn't changed, Tobias isn't fully confident that his particular method of showing it has, either.

"I was drunk," he interjects, before his father can continue further. "I was drunk and I fell and I sprained my ankle and one of my buddies dragged me to the hospital without me even knowing what was going on." The lie comes easily; his self-preservation instincts helped hone that skill from a very young age.

His father sighs again and Tobias can picture him resting his head in his hand and shaking it a few times, so disgusted with him that he can't even respond straight away. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again," he adds for good measure. His father has never been one to forgive, with or without an apology, but sometimes it lessened the punishment if Tobias was very clear that he knew he'd been wrong.

"I wasn't just calling about that," Marcus adds and Tobias flinches in anticipation of whatever might be coming next. "I've got men coming to me left and right explaining why they would be better at fronting this project, Tobias. They're coming to me and reporting how you practically sleep in meetings and can't even remember important figures or statistics."

Tobias silently releases a small breath of relief. Hand it over to the qualified men of the company, he prays. Give it to whoever has worked there the longest or has the best track record. For the love of God, pass it on to anyone who has a fucking clue about what he's doing. "Prove them wrong, Tobias." His father says again, and now his stomach turns uncomfortably. "This isn't about you. This is about me. I've spent my whole damned life dealing with your bullshit and cleaning up your messes. It's time for you to make me look good for once."

Marcus has finally come to the crux of the matter - his own precious image and reputation. Good to know Tobias's main purpose in life was to reinforce those two matters as positively as possible. He can't help but roll his eyes, even with the rock in his stomach and the fast beat of his heart. "I've been putting a lot of time into this already. I've memorised a lot of the stuff you've given me and-"

"MEMORISE IT ALL," he shouts from the other end, nearly causing Tobias to drop the phone out of his hand. "I swear to God, Tobias, if you don't get this damned thing right you'll be sorry that you ever had this job in the first place." The threat is enough to make Tobias' hands shake. "And you sure as hell won't have to worry about having a job at all after."

The threat of losing his job means much more to Tobias than it might to most people. He doesn't have the experience or the skills to get another job. Losing his job will effectively sentence him to moving back home, back to the horror of his father's house. "I-I won't. Screw it up, I mean," he tries to assure his father. He can't stand the way his voice shakes.

"I figured a reminder would help keep your priorities straight," is all his father says before hanging up the phone and leaving an anxiety-ridden silence in his wake.

Tobias pulls the phone away from his ear and contemplates it for a second before tossing it onto the coffee table, not really caring if he breaks it. Maybe he's better off without it.

"Are you alright?" Her voice startles him so much that he jumps off of the couch, turning in the direction of her voice. He focuses on where she still lies curled up on the couch. She stares up at him with wide, worried eyes, biting at her lip. Her hair is in disarray and her eyes are still slightly glazed with sleep. The image is enough to begin calming his frantic heart.

He falls back down onto the couch next to her and doesn't speak for a minute. "Me?" he asks, gesturing to himself. "Are you kidding? I'm good." He waves his hand in dismissal and smiles. "How about you? How'd you sleep?"

The stare she fixes him with lets him know that she clearly knows better, but she eventually looks away, rubbing her eyes and stretching as she sits up. "Pretty great, actually." She smiles shyly at him and fusses with her hair, despite the hopeless rat's nest it has become. "Were you out here all night?"

She appears embarrassed to be asking the question, hiding her face as she studies the lines of the wood in the coffee table. She even picks up his coasters and begins to examine them. Tobias can't help having a little chuckle at her expense. "Yeah, I passed out right after you, I think."

With a nod of her head Tris cracks her back and stands from the couch. "I'm going to brush my teeth and then I'm making breakfast," she announces.

"Want any help?" Tobias calls after her, holding a hand up to sample his own breath and making a face at how unpleasant it is. He tries to think back to determine if he has gone anywhere near her face since they woke up. He sure hopes not.

Copying her actions, he goes to his own bathroom and brushes his teeth thoroughly, and then messes with his hair for a bit. Eventually he just decides to run his fingers through it, putting it back to how he always wears it. Anything else and it will look a little too formal, considering he's still wearing pyjamas.

He reappears in the kitchen, his heart skipping a beat when he sees she's done the same. Her hair is now quite well tamed, and she is pulling it off of her neck and into a bun on the back of her head. He is mesmerized by the shine her hair has in the morning sunlight coupled with the elegant motions she uses to sweep it all up and secure it tightly. Her exposed neck and bit of shoulder are enough to make his fingers itch for contact, his lips desperate to meet the junction of the two and work their way to her jaw.

She spins around, pulling him out of his less than appropriate thoughts. She didn't brush her hair for you, he reminds himself. She needs her hair out of her face in order to cook. That's all it is. "To answer your question," Tris says as she opens the fridge and begins expertly digging through its contents, "I think it'd be safer for all involved if you just sat to the side and observed."

Even though it's a bit childish he sticks his tongue out at her, although he dutifully takes a seat at the island overlooking the bustling kitchen. It is remarkable to him how different it looks stocked full of groceries. Tris knows where everything is, and she pulls out bacon and eggs and a tube of heat and eat biscuits, laying everything out on the counter. "I do love your kitchen," she sighs, and then turns on the oven to preheat it.

"Breakfast in the dining room?" Tobias says spontaneously, remembering yesterday's dazed stare and expression of admiration for his dining room. It seems a shame not to take advantage of it as soon as possible.

Tris doesn't look quite so sold on the idea as she raises an eyebrow at him whilst scrambling the eggs. Eventually she shrugs. "Untraditional, but I like it." Given that "untraditional" has been an ongoing theme with them, Tobias thinks it's about time they adjust to it. "Go set the table while I cook."

Tobias salutes her and she giggles, another unexpected response but incredibly endearing nonetheless. He starts setting the table and tries to wrap his head around everything that has happened just this morning alone. He recalls waking up next to Tris on the couch, the less than pleasant phone conversation with his father, the immediate effect she had on his mood, and finds himself grinning from ear to ear as he automatically lays down napkins and multiple forks. He learnt how to set a formal dining table at a very young age, before the maids started coming around.

After finishing the table, he goes back to the kitchen and watches her work silently, not announcing his presence. She hums quietly to herself as the bacon sizzles. Eventually she must feel his eyes on her because she turns to look at him. When she sees his gaze locked on her she blushes and turns back to the stove. "Why don't you put on some music," she says.

The first thing that pops into his head at her request seems to have happened a thousand years ago, but really it wasn't very long ago at all. As with most other memories of Tris, it comes with startling clarity. The two of them sitting in a café on a freezing night, complete strangers brought together by good timing and guilt. The way they'd sat in silence while the man strummed his guitar quietly in the corner, causing Tris to comment on how much she enjoyed the song.

So it doesn't really surprise him when the only song he can think to put on is Collide. Sure, it's a bit clichéd and about six years out of date, but it seems so strikingly perfect for the moment at hand that he puts it on anyway.

The shitty phone speaker plays the song loud enough to echo throughout the kitchen. The song begins with a solo guitar and Tris freezes, pausing in the middle of moving bacon from the frying pan. At first, Tobias worries that perhaps he's overwhelming her. Waking up next to him, cooking breakfast together, and now listening to some corny love song, it's probably all a little too intimate. She doesn't want that from him, of course. She wants a place to live and she is seemingly more receptive to his friendship, but Tobias knows better than to overstep his boundaries any further. His constant fear of her darting off always weighs heavily in moments like this.

His concern was unfounded, though, as once the lyrics kick in Tris moves back into action, a subtle smile forming on her lips. She goes back to humming as soon as the chorus begins. Tobias finds her completely entrancing, and he feels no shame in his unyielding stare. She glances over her shoulder at him at one point, all wide-eyed innocence paired with a coy little smile. She doesn't bat an eye at the way he is staring back. He doesn't dare look away first.

Their grandiose breakfast begins shortly after the song is completed, and then it's back to silent glances and "can you grab the syrup?" He follows her into the dining room where she carries her platter of bacon and eggs and biscuits. She pours orange juice for the both of them and Tobias ends up sitting at the head of the table, with Tris sitting to his right. He's relieved she didn't choose to sit at the other end of the table. After all, it's very large and they both would have a pretty hard time reaching everything.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks as she fills her plate up and then promptly pours syrup over everything.

She doesn't even flinch when it drizzles over her eggs. "Excuse me?" she asks, but continues to pour.

"Nothing we're eating right now requires syrup," he comments. He's aware that there are people who dip their bacon in syrup, and sure, it's gross, but it does happen. Eggs, though? EGGS? He has to fight back the urge to vomit as he watches her contaminate her breakfast.

Tris just laughs at him and takes one giant bite, not looking even the slightest bit perturbed. Tobias gags a little. "Oh, please, syrup is part of my heritage."

The comment makes no sense to him whatsoever, but instead of asking further he decides he'll have to ignore what's happening and blissfully enjoy his own food. "So," he finally says, once he has the stomach to look in her direction again. "Is there anything you'd care to do today?"

Tris throws him a curious glance but doesn't respond for a while. It seems many of their conversations are filled with lulls and quiet thoughts. Tobias isn't sure if that makes them thoughtful and introspective or awkward and overly cautious. "Is that a trick question?"

At first he finds himself pausing, trying to interpret her statement to decide how best to respond, but then he tells himself _oh_, _fuck it_. "No, I was just thinking we both have a day off. Well, I mean, I do have work to do but we could always do something else - go to a movie, shop some more, plan to have dinner out - whatever sounds good."

Tris doesn't hesitate before she laughs raucously. She just throws her head back and laughs at him as though what he has said is simply absurd.

"What?" he asks, mildly offended. He doesn't understand what he's done to earn her derision. His offer was well-intended, after all.

"Tobias," she says, resting her hand on his forearm in a way that sends his heart into overdrive. It's starting to become a bit of a problem, this effect she has on him. "The offer is very much appreciated, but…I don't do that sort of thing." She goes back to her food, pushing her syrup-sodden eggs around on her plate. "Besides, I'd feel bad taking any more from you than I already have."

Now he sighs, feeling that they've reignited yet another unending battle. If she would just surrender it would make matters much easier. "You're not taking anything from me, babe. I'm an endless pit of money and opportunity."

The pet name might be out of line but she doesn't say anything, or even make a face, surprisingly enough. Tobias can't recall ever having called anyone 'babe.' He's not big on cutesy names. "Well, okay then, I feel bad taking your dad's money."

There's a brief second where Tobias just wants to slam his head into the table but instead he just takes a deep breath and tries to maintain his composure. "You're not gypping us out of anything. I _want_ to do things with you and go places with you and buy things for you. Not because I'm some archaic caveman who wants to assert my dominance, but because you're my friend. Remember that deal we made, Tris? Well, friends take friends to the movies."

She bites her lip in contemplation for a moment. "Archaic caveman asserting his dominance?" she finally adds, a smirk playing on her lips. "You sound like my old home economics teacher who hated men."

"Home economics, eh?" he asks, because for whatever reason, the idea of her in that class is just too amusing to him. What do they even teach in those classes? Cooking and cleaning? How does one earn school credit for that?

"It's an easy A!" she exclaims in defence. "Besides, that's the class where I learned my delicious meatloaf recipe. You'll be thanking my teacher for that later." She adds the last bit with her fork hovering near his face as she makes her point. The syrup which clung to every piece of her food now clings to a spot on her chin, unnoticed by Tris.

Tobias doesn't fight the urge for long before taking his napkin and leaning in to wipe it off. At first she begins to pull back, eyes wide in what Tobias recognises as fear. "It's okay," he reassures her in a whisper, even with no one else to hear the words Tobias felt they deserved the reverence of a hushed tone. "You just have a bit of syrup."

After he says it he thinks perhaps she'll just reach up and wipe it off herself, but instead she remains still and even leans in a bit to allow him to wipe it. When he pulls away she smiles shyly. "Thank you."

"I have an idea," Tris says shortly after that, and he can tell by the glint in her eye that it's going to be an interesting one.

And that's how Tobias finds himself sitting in his usual bar with Christina and Will. Tris had claimed she wanted to work, but Tobias suspects she's more excited about spending time with someone who is first, a woman, and second, clearly not him. In her defence, spending time with just one person all of the time can get old very quickly.

The two women hit it off instantly. At first Tris is somewhat reserved, not saying much as Christina asks her a series of questions, but as soon as they start discussing their elaborate project to take over the world - well, more like feed the local homeless - she is completely invested. Yet somehow, the topic of conversation shifts to sophomore homecoming. Tobias is a bit shocked at how many memories of Tris's life she mentions that can completely throw him off. Dances? Classes? Family? It all seems so far outside the spectrum of things he had imagined her to have experienced. He wonders what on earth could have happened to make her leave it all behind.

"And my school _always_ insisted on playing the Cha Cha Slide at some point in the evening," Christina says with an eye roll.

Tobias tries to participate in the conversation, but since he isn't currently working on the project and has never been to a high school dance, there isn't a whole lot for him to say. However, he's quite pleased whenever Tris casually touches his knee or reaches over and eats a buffalo wing off of his plate, or even when she turns for just a moment to smile at him. It isn't a double date, but considering they are two couples sitting across from one another in a booth, it kind of feels like it.

Will and Tobias end up sipping at their drinks and occasionally nodding at one another. "You watch any sports? Football?" Will asks at one point.

"Uh, not really," Tobias admits. He realizes it makes him a little different from most men, but he just can't imagine sitting for hours on end watching guys tackle each other over a ball. Perhaps he should have gone to the football games in high school. "A bit of hockey."

Will nods and drinks again. "I don't really watch much either, to be honest. Christina is really into football, though, so lately I've been watching it every Sunday." Tobias can easily picture it. Christina in a jersey jumping on the couch with excitement while Will sits and watches her. "How long have you and Tris been going out?"

He's suddenly speechless now that they've crossed into dangerous territory. What does he say to that question? Have they told them that they live together? Because to admit that they live in the same apartment but aren't actually dating would undoubtedly raise some questions. But to lie and say they are dating might send Tris into a spiralling panic. So he just sits there, frozen, with his mouth ajar.

Will chuckles at him and then whispers, "Don't worry about it. I can't remember my and Christina's anniversary either, and I'm convinced one day she'll kill me because of it."

That might be one of the best saves God has ever gifted him with.

"No, but seriously, did you ever read 'The Yellow Wallpaper'?" Christina asks, her conversation with Tris clearly shifting yet again.

She contemplates as she sips on her soda. "I'm not old enough to drink," she had said with a shrug when Tobias had offered to order her one. "I can't say I have. My English teacher spent the first half of the year going over 'The Scarlet Letter' and the second half on '1984.' Who knew there was even that much to talk about in one book?"

The whole situation is wonderful and charming and _normal _enough that Tobias doesn't mind at all that he just kind of sits there for an hour while they talk. He and Will develop an excellent language consisting entirely of nods and eyebrows. It's a bond of its own, he decides.

It's around ten when Tris announces, "Well, Tobias has work in the morning, so we should really get going," and in a seemingly coordinated effort all four of them stand, exchanging hugs and handshakes.

"She makes you happy," Christina whispers in his ear when he goes to hug her. He shoots her a look, glancing over to see if Tris is paying attention, and then Christina winks at him. He rolls his eyes back at her, but she just adds, "Don't let her go."

Thank God Tris' focus was diverted elsewhere. They step out into the cold night, the snow from the night before still clustered in random mounds on the sidewalk. Disguised by the snow are patches of ice, and Tobias has to fight the urge to reach over and steady Tris as they pick their way around them carefully.

"This was so nice," she says with a sigh. "Thank you, Tobias, truly."

Her eyes meet his and a very intense look is exchanged between the two of them. They both pause for a moment, right there in the middle of the sidewalk, though neither of them knows why. Tris holds his gaze as she bites her lip and then reaches up towards his face. He holds his breath, thinking that perhaps this is it. The anticipation of his lips on hers and the shared warmth between them stirs something alive in him that has long been dormant.

He fights the urge to lean in, trying to allow her to control whatever happens in order to avoid scaring her off, as usually happens. But his eyes hold hers as her right hand reaches toward his face. It looks as though she is about to cup his jaw when instead she takes her thumb and wipes his chin.

When she pulls away the air is charged around them, the unresolved electricity strong enough to power an entire city block. Tobias aches with the desire to wrap her in his arms and press his lips to hers in a kiss that would not soon be forgotten. But instead, Tris clears her throat and attempts to dissolve the tension that hovers between them. "Just a bit of buffalo sauce," she mumbles, beginning to walk again.

"We sure are a pair of messy eaters," he comments, with a horribly contrived laugh. As soon as he says it he wants to slap himself in the face. Dumb, he decides. That was _so_ dumb.

But Tris laughs along with him and they both just let the awkward moment dissipate.

Eventually, even their slow, careful pace doesn't prevent them from slipping on the hidden ice. Just as Tris is about to take a spill and land hard on either her head or her ass, Tobias reaches out and grabs her, his arms encircling her just a bit too tightly. "You okay?" he asks tenderly, and even though the night is illuminated only by dim street lights and a moon partially obscured by clouds, he can still see her blush.

"Yes, thank you," she answers. He relinquishes his hold after a moment but she wraps her arm firmly around his, using him as an anchor to the treacherous ground beneath her.

Little does she know she is his anchor, too.


	21. Storm

**Hello! I hope you all are doing well. On time this time around and it is another long chapter, so I hope you all enjoy! Once again big thanks to my lovely editor who did another fantastic job. Thank you all again for your reviews. I believe I managed to respond to everyone this time around. I hope you all enjoy. It's going to be a busy weekend so expect another update on Monday. Thank you again!**

Sundays are like the eye of a storm. They are peaceful and quiet with no sign of what is about to come. Monday mornings are when things storm to life all over again. The threat of a storm begins to loom as soon as the sun sets on this Sunday night, like thunder off in the distance, as Tobias and Tris watch some old black and white film. He realises that this is the end of their weekend, safely ensconced in their little bubble of comfortable companionship and doing whatever they wanted to do. Whether that was breakfast in a fancy dining room or pizza off of paper plates in front of the TV. The thought sits in the back of his mind and won't fade away no matter how hard he tries. Just like a pesky mosquito, it keeps coming back and biting a hole right through his current serene reality.

Not only does Monday mean the end of the Tobias and Tris wonder weekend, it also heralds the beginning of what is sure to be his father breathing down his neck every second of the day. Since the morning phone call that woke him up, Tobias has avoided all of the things he should have been doing in terms of work. Procrastination at its finest. But that doesn't mean he can stop thinking about them, the anxiety churning through him relentlessly. Tris must feel it radiating off of him as she keeps suggesting he do some more of his work. Clearly she caught snippets of this morning's conversation. He keeps shushing her and pretending to watch the movie.

It's nearly midnight when he runs his hands over his face and stretches his arms out. He glances over at Tris, thinking she should be asleep by now, but she still sits on the other end of the couch with her knees pulled against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her head rests on top as she watches the film with rapt attention. Due to the darkness of the room it takes him a second to recognise that she is crying.

He really wants to do the right thing in this situation. Say just the perfect thing to comfort her, or perhaps give her the space she needs and not say anything at all. In all honesty, though, Tobias is actually quite clueless as to which is the correct action to take.

His arms drop mid-stretch and he turns his face back to the TV, trying to pretend he hasn't noticed her tears. But then he can't help himself, peeking over at her every few seconds, and even though she doesn't look back at him he feels relatively certain that she is well aware of his stare. Now, instead of the impending Monday morning demanding all of his attention, Tobias can't think of anything else but, _what do I do?_

The panic that ensues over a girl crying is actually somewhat comical. Perhaps even he would find it humorous if he wasn't the one panicking and she wasn't the one still crying. Finally, he clears his throat and, while still looking at the TV, dares to say, "Are you okay?"

Tris doesn't answer at first and he fights the urge to look over again to check and see whether she has somehow dozed off or if she's simply ignoring him. The silence continues to grow between them before Tris finally squeaks out, "Fine."

Her voice sounds so frail and small that it hardly convinces him of anything. Still, he doesn't dare to look over and contemplates just leaving it at that and going off to bed. After all, what else is he supposed to do? Pat her shoulder and try to reassure her half-heartedly? "Are you sure? Because if it's not that's…alright. We can, like, talk about it or something." He tries very hard to sound comforting and helpful, but really he feels pretty useless.

Tris actually lets out a small laugh at him. It throws him off just a bit. "Thank you. I think I'm just tired, though."

"Oh," he responds quietly, but doesn't yet make a move to leave and let her sleep. He rubs the back of his neck and dares to look at her again. She has wiped her face and offers him a small smile, her eyes no longer on the TV screen. "It's okay, you know? To cry if you need to." He shrugs nonchalantly. Partly because the thought of her crying even more is a bit alarming and partly because he doesn't want to make a big deal of it and cause her to be uncomfortable. "I mean, I don't really cry, 'cause I'm a guy. But you…you can." "_You're a man. Stop your goddamned crying." _The voice still echoes in his head to this day. He will never forget when he was a child, hiding under the desk or his bed or the table trying to cry as quietly as possible. The pain that followed is also far too well remembered.

Next thing he knows, Tris's hand is on his forearm and he shifts his gaze away from staring at the TV to look over at her. "Thank you, Tobias," she says again, her words heavy with sincerity. She reaches over and kisses his cheek softly, for just a second, before returning to where she had been sitting before.

Instantly, Tobias feels the blood draining from the rest of his body and rushing furiously to his face. He feels like multi-organ failure is about to come next. "Y-you're welcome," he says jumping off of the couch to go excuse himself off to bed. He hopes it's dark enough in the room that she can't see how red he is turning, but feels as though a large, neon flashing sign is pointing at his face, exposing his telltale blush. He might as well just scream his attraction to her. Instead, he sputters, "I'm going to head to bed now, you know, work in the morning and all, but, uh, you…you help yourself to whatever and I'll see you later. Well I don't mean later today since I'm going to bed, although it is after midnight, so I guess it will be later today, just not tonight…but, well, you know, the morning."

He walks to his room with his head hanging in shame, too embarrassed to turn back and wave goodnight to her one more time. Or to allow her an opportunity to respond to that humiliating projectile word vomit he had just hurled at her. He shuts his door and falls onto his bed, still dressed in his clothes from their foray to the bar, and just one thought cycles through his mind endlessly. At least the blood hadn't all rushed someplace _else._

Somehow, it isn't quite as comforting as he'd hoped.

* * *

><p>The alarm is just as annoying as it is every other morning. The room is just as cold and miserable as always whenever he's forced to get out of bed. And the shower is once again his only saving grace. It is still dark outside when he wakes up, which he is convinced is part of the problem, but he turns on all the lights in the bathroom and shuts the door hoping to trick himself into thinking otherwise.<p>

At first, all he cares about is how cold and tired and overall miserable he is, but as the shower water slowly begins to wake him up he forgets to care about his deep-seated exhaustion, and instead focuses on the anxiety of what he'll be facing this morning.

Much like his first day on the job, he knows in theory what he'll need to do in order to placate Marcus, but he can't help but worry that there is no way for him to do it. He had only been eighteen when he started, and he had spent thirty minutes that morning ironing his clothes over and over, trying to get the creases in his pants right just like Ms. Rosa always used to do for his dad. After that, he made a point to use the dry cleaners instead. Walking through those huge doors at work had seemed to hold the promise of a new life coupled with all of the burdens of the old one.

Even now, he sometimes hoped that one day the giant office building really could hold his future. He hated his father, even from a young age. He resented him and lacked any loving memories to make up for all of the awful ones. But that didn't change the fact that Tobias had looked up to him. He remembered sitting on the bathroom counter while his father combed his hair perfectly and tied his tie just so. He remembered the smell of his after shave in the mornings. In the evenings the office left a different scent on him, something akin to mustiness combined with paper and old coffee. It seemed so glamorous, even if Tobias hated every other aspect of the man; he aspired to be a successful businessman just like him. The conversations around the dinner table about his father's investments and advances up the proverbial work ladder lingered as some of the only positive memories he had of his childhood.

Tobias's face in the mirror on that very first day at work was some scary reflection of how his father had looked back when he was still young enough to sit on the counter and stare in wonder at him. And at first it _was_ as wonderful as he'd thought it to be when he was a boy. But in truth, as he got older and realised just how little option he truly had in joining the family business, he disliked it more and more. Nothing could have prepared him for just how greatly he'd end up resenting this dumb job.

Three years later and he still hates it. In fact, he despises it more every day. But today will be stored away as a special sort of anxiety-filled day for him. He can't just show up and hate it and walk around with his head down and simply get through the day. No, now he has to be competent, even better than competent. And all of his years prior have been a waste because he feels like today is his first day ever with all of the knowledge he has.

Green is the best colour to describe how he is feeling when he emerges from his room in pursuit of coffee despite the fact it will probably just fuel his nervous jitters even more. His towel still hangs around his shoulders and he readjusts the waistband of his boxers, too tired to fully dress himself just yet. He takes his towel and runs it over his face again as his hair drips onto it. When he pulls it away he opens his eyes and finds Tris staring at him, her jaw hanging slightly open.

"Shit!" he exclaims. Somehow, and he really isn't sure just how the hell he'd managed it, he succeeded in momentarily forgetting that she was out here, in all of her freshly-woken glory. Her hair is rumpled, and an imprint is still pressed into the side of her cheek from how she slept. Her coffee cup was halfway to her mouth but was now paused, hanging shakily in the air. "Sorry, I…wasn't thinking." He turns around, struggling to identify a reason that might help him save face in this awkward situation. "It's been a long morning," he sighs, surrendering his dignity with a slump of his shoulders.

Tris giggles behind him. God, does he enjoy it when she does that. "It's okay, Tobias. I've seen men in their underwear before."

"Right, yes, good." He clears his throat and just stands still another moment longer, staring back at his open bedroom door. "Well I'm just going to go…get dressed." And then he hurries down the hall, closing the door firmly to his bedroom and leaning heavily against it.

It seems this day is going to kill him, one way or another.

Tobias exits his room, this time fully clothed and much more put together. He makes himself some breakfast while Tris sits at the island and watches him with a smirk on her face. He does his best to ignore her entirely. But try as he might, he can only pretend to ignore her. In reality, he is hyperaware of her untamed bedhead and the fact that she is still wearing his T-shirt. Apparently, his conscious and subconscious mind are both so focused on these details that he becomes incapable of managing other basic tasks at the same time, resulting in him blithely pouring a cup of hot coffee onto his suit and successfully scalding a portion of his chest.

At first, Tris is nothing but concerned as she hops up and grabs a dish towel, pressing it against his chest in a slight panic. Needless to say, the burning from the coffee is the last thing on his mind in that exact moment. But once she sees he is just fine she dissolves into hysterical laughter which he turns and walks away from in order to go change into clean work attire. When he walks back out Tris has put his coffee in a to-go cup with a lid and smiles cheekily at him. "Didn't want you to hurt yourself."

Tobias frowns at her teasing, but takes the cup regardless and then grabs his briefcase and leaves. Imagine his surprise when he takes a sip of his prepared coffee only to find it's exactly as he likes it. Apparently, he's not the only one paying attention to these things.

This small detail is enough to put a bit more of a spring in his step, at least until he actually arrives at the office, fifteen minutes early despite the coffee mishap. Once he's there he feels like shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor, trying to pretend he isn't there both for his sake and everyone else's. But today is the day to start proving himself, apparently, so he attempts confidence at least long enough to walk through the door.

Perhaps his mood can't be classified as chipper, but he does hope that maybe friendly and professional would be applicable words as he smiles and nods at his colleagues. Honestly, he is relatively impressed with how many names of people in the office he actually knows. Most everyone there is enough of a kiss-up that they all respond in earnest with overly enthusiastic greetings of their own. Tobias is also surprised to see that there are quite a few people who don't even care enough to bother kissing up. Lazy, Tobias thinks. Everyone knows being a brown-nosed suck-up is the only way to get anywhere with an office job. Probably explains why teacher's pets always succeed in life.

He sets himself up at his desk, pulling out the ten pounds of paperwork he stuffed into his briefcase this morning and laying it all out. It doesn't take much to tell that he feels unprepared and is completely disorganised. Even though technically nothing is happening today, Tobias knows something _will_ be happening. His father had been serious on the phone last night. Now that Tobias lives on his own his father only gets like that on rare occasions. Generally, either when Tobias already has screwed up, or when he is just about to. Although he doesn't fear a beating in his office on a Monday morning, he doesn't doubt a scolding will most likely be in order. That is, unless he is somehow able to know all of these stats well enough before Marcus manages to show up.

It's all rather daunting, just staring at all of the work he has cut out for him. How is anyone supposed to master this much information in their lifetime, let alone a mere week and a half! Not to mention this is Tobias of all people. He's not exactly known for cramming and studying, or even for having the slightest gift for reading stocks or overly complex graphs with standard deviations and outliers. Not for the first time, he wishes he would have at least considered higher education or at the very least to have paid attention in Ms. Combs 10th grade algebra class.

Unfortunately, Tobias didn't study when he was a kid. He didn't even apply himself. Anything past junior high and he was lost. Come to find out, business requires an awful lot of math comprehension and application. Perhaps he shouldn't have been as surprised by this, it wasn't like he hadn't been there when his father discussed his work, often this included a rambling of all sorts of numbers. Perhaps he'd just been in denial, seeing as how this whole math thing put him at a pretty big disadvantage. It was a gap he had no idea how to close.

Over the next couple of hours he tries his best to study everything, he really does, but his brain, much like this morning, wants nothing to do with the task in front of him. Instead, Tris floods his every thought and it almost paralyzes him just how much he cannot stop thinking about her. It doesn't seem healthy. After all, Tobias has dated many girls before. He has even told girls that he loved them before. He dated one girl for almost nine months before she broke it off with him. It wasn't as though he was a stranger to crushes and relationships and that very unmanly feeling of butterflies fluttering in his gut.

So, why is…whatever this feeling with Tris is, so consuming? He thinks he can compare it to falling ill. All you want to do is forget how miserable you feel, but instead you can't help but acknowledge every ache and pain and twist of your stomach. Only this feeling isn't miserable, well, not all of the time. This feeling is kind of wonderful and beautiful and magical, but also horrible and painful and confusing all rolled into one. A part of him just wants it to go away. Go away so he can go back to being the man who just wanted to be kind and do something good. A bigger part thinks that maybe altruism isn't his driving motivation, or at least it hasn't been for a very long time.

So considering that the morning was spent in this manner, with his head in one hand whilst his other one flips through papers and pretends to read them, it's a bit alarming when his father announces his presence by flinging the door open and storming into his office. Tobias swears he jumps a foot in his chair and remembers very abruptly just why this studying is so important. Thoughts of Tris finally manage to fly right out of his head.

Tobias sinks back down into his chair, hoping maybe it can just devour him whole and put him out of his misery. He crosses his arm over his chest and tries to swallow. His mouth is too dry for it to be effective. "Hello, Father," he tries to say with as much dignity as he can muster. Just like when his father walked in the door every evening after work, or late at night if he'd visited the bar and had managed to inebriate himself already.

Marcus stares him down for a moment and then glances at his desk. "Tobias," he answers gruffly. As always, Marcus is the picture of perfection. Not a single hair in disarray and his pants perfectly pressed with the creases in exactly the right spots. It didn't even look as though he had sat in his car on the way here with them on. He probably hadn't. Tobias could just imagine him getting to work and switching out of his mildly rumpled work pants in exchange for a completely new pair. The idea is completely ludicrous, yet just plausible enough that he considers it a real possibility.

"Speak, boy," his father demands, pulling Tobias out from his thoughts only to realise his in-depth consideration of what his father does with his pants has caused him to completely miss whatever he was saying.

Tobias clears his throat and picks one arm up to rub his hand along the back of his neck. "Sorry, what did you say?"

The question obviously sets his father off, and even though Tobias is almost positive his father would never lay a hand on him in the office, his confidence in that wavers with the look on Marcus' face. "Maybe if you got your head out your ass every once in a while you would know." He doesn't shout but the low tone is somehow more threatening. "I asked you if you were done studying the goddamned papers I gave you yet."

Now, a normal person wouldn't need to explain they aren't finished yet as anyone can plainly see that he is still working with them. However, Marcus is not a normal man, and he does not want a normal answer. The only reason he is asking the question is because he already has an answer in mind. And Tobias had better damn well answer it right or so help him God.

"I was just finishing up, actually," he lies, crossing his fingers in the hope that his father doesn't turn around and start quizzing him. Now that he thinks about it, he sure wishes Tris had insisted on helping him last night. She is good at helping him study.

Marcus looks Tobias up and down and scans the office. Tobias feels the familiar twinge of fear. Suffice it to say that the butterflies have all been chased away. "Good," is all he says, but his voice remains harsh. "I have more."

It takes everything in Tobias not to look horrified in this moment. "No problem," he says instead, trying to infuse enthusiasm where there is none. "Just send it my way."

Marcus takes two steps toward him until he's standing right in front of his desk and then he lowers himself until he is eye level with Tobias. "You'd best not be fucking with me," he says in a low voice. The stance, the growl, the manner in which he talks - Tobias is reminded of a menacing dog trying to protect its territory.

"Never," he answers promptly, offering a fake smile.

Marcus smacks him once across the face. A sissy hit, he used to call it. The first time his father ever hit Tobias it had been just like that. At only four years old, Tobias had immediately burst into tears. _"You don't cry about a goddamned sissy hit, son," _his father had bellowed at him. So now he remains stone-faced, not really caring about one little smack anyway. Now that he is older it doesn't even faze him. "There's a meeting at three on the material you claim you're so well versed in." It's clearly a threat. "Show me."

When the office door slams shut behind him Tobias finally breathes again, his hand flying up to touch his red cheek before he can even think twice.

* * *

><p>Exhaustion is an interesting concept. You always think you've met it before, hung out with it, probably shared some coffee with it, but the truth about exhaustion is that you never really know when you've truly experienced it, because there's always comes another time when you'll be even more tired.<p>

At least, that's how Tobias feels by the time the day is finally over. His body is worn out simply from how utterly exhausted his mind is. All of the stress and anxiety and the fact that he hasn't eaten yet today is getting to him. His mind just wants to shut off and not boot back up for about ten years.

As he goes home he feels like an extra from The Walking Dead. He grunts in response to the doorman and leans heavily on the elevator wall. When he opens his apartment door he takes just enough time to take off his shoes and toe them carefully into place, then say "Hey," to Tris who stands in the kitchen once again surrounded by amazing scents. He walks on by and then collapses face first onto his bed.

He decides that he's not going to move, not anytime soon, at least. Now the day is through and he doesn't have to worry about pant creases or if his tie is straight or whether or not he is contributing enough in some dull statistical meeting. Now all he worries about is how deeply he can bury his face into the pillows in hopes of suffocating himself. Well, not really, but yeah, a little bit.

Tobias doesn't feel the least bit awake, but he also knows that he isn't really asleep. So he just lays there, breathing in stale pillow air and hoping that soon he won't be conscious anymore.

At some point the bed dips down, significantly enough that he figures it must be another person. Which means it must be the only person who would be worth seeing right now. So, he finally emerges from the pillows and takes his first breath of fresh air in God knows how long. He sits up and looks over at her. She is radiant, even in the early darkness of winter she is still glowing.

"So, I was thinking," she starts and it's only now that Tobias sees the tray full of food. "We've eaten just about everywhere else in this house so I was just like, what the hell!"

It's so perfect, and _she's _so perfect, and suddenly the stress seems to untangle itself from every knot in his body and finally sets him free. "Breakfast in the dining room and dinner in bed?" he asks with a light chuckle, because it seems just weird enough.

"Tomorrow I'm thinking lunch in the bathtub." She laughs at her own joke which is even more endearing and Tobias can't help himself as he smiles widely at her.

This is it, he thinks to himself. This is the most I have ever wanted to kiss someone else in my life. There's a million and one reasons as to why he can't though, so many that even he can't ignore them. So instead, he sits up just enough to reach her cheek and presses his lips to it. Unlike hers, this kiss is not quite so chaste, his lips lingering a bit longer than absolutely necessary. When he pulls away he hovers not an inch from her face as she turns to look at him. So close now that he can feel her breath and see the freckles that sit across her nose. He sees a tiny scar, right on her lip.

If he moves just half an inch more he'll be kissing her. And if he moves just a bit more than that she will be underneath of him, on his bed. He quickly slams the door shut on that thought and instead just inwardly gloats when he sees her blush bright red. She still handles it in far better stride than he had. "Thank you, Tris," he whispers over to her before finally pulling back and examining the tray properly.

Unlike him, she doesn't dart from the room and stammer and gasp, making him look even more like an idiot. But she does smile, a lot. And then she licks her lips and looks away and they both pretend nothing ever happened.

"You're welcome," she adds a moment later, her eyes meeting his once more as she attempts to hide the giddy smile continuing to spread across her face.


	22. Memory

**Good morning! Apologies about being a bit late, but I had to go into work last night and was not able to get this posted beforehand. It's close enough to Monday though, right? I hope you all had a lovely weekend :) This chapter is a little shorter than some of my more recent updates but I do believe you will enjoy it all the same. Everyone who's reviews I have not yet responded to, especially those of you who asked questions, I will answer soon.**

**Of course a thank you to my always loyal and helpful editor BK2U who works hard to ensure this is of the best quality it can. The next update you should expect Thursday night either before eight or close to midnight. I have plans to go see the premiere of Mockingjay so it'll be either before or after that! Thank you all again and I really hope you enjoy!**

There is something very intimate about lying in a bed together. Even fully dressed and just lying there on top of the covers with a tray of mostly eaten food between them, it still feels like the lines between platonic and not are being blurred. Perhaps it's just Tobias's own perception, his attraction clouding the reality of the situation. It feels to him, though, that there is something special about this time together that doesn't normally exist outside of this room. After they both finish eating Tobias flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. Tris takes a particularly long time gathering the plates together and stacking everything carefully on the tray before clearing her throat and shifting her weight.

"I can go if you..." she starts, her voice trailing off before she finishes.

Or maybe he just hasn't given her ample opportunity to continue because he immediately jumps in with, "No! No, you're fine. Company is good."

So Tris nods and lays on her side facing him, still well over a foot of space between them while the tray rests near their feet. For a long time there is nothing but the sound of their breathing, heavy and deep and edging closer to sleep, but not quite there. Neither of them has it in them to start a conversation, nor does either of them feel like moving from this spot. For once, Tobias finds the silence with her to be comfortable and relaxed. Maybe he's just too tired for his usual revolving anxieties.

After a day as shitty as this particular day has been it's highly unusual that Tobias can relax in quiet companionship and allow it to soothe away the worries of the day. His normal routine is to go straight to the gym and work out every last one of his frustrations in front of a punching bag. He usually pushes himself until every muscle is screaming and his hands are split and bleeding. It's the only way he can feel satisfied that he has done enough. Then he typically goes home and showers and collapses into bed, his muscles still writhing beneath his skin. The silence normally consumes him, but sleep never shows him the same kindness. He just lays awake, caught between the physical pain of his worn body and the mental worries that threaten to drown him. Getting up for work again the next day is always a struggle.

Coffee really can be a man's best friend.

Tonight, though, time for Tobias and Tris moves slowly but fluidly, with no tension or awkwardness, filled only with quiet and calm solidarity. After a while, Tobias is convinced he'll look over to Tris and find her with her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open, the hard exterior of years spent being too old too soon fading from her features. But when he does turn his head and look over at her he finds her staring back at him with hazel eyes that seem so wide and honest, even in the darkness of the room.

She offers him a smile, wide and unabashed. He has noticed differences in her since she started living here. Of course, he hadn't known her all that well before, but still he could see the subtle ways she has changed, like how she holds herself and the way she speaks. Tris is clearly much more comfortable now. She isn't folding her body in on itself in protective mode nor is she trying to sound as gruff and tough as possible. These differences might be slight, but by far the biggest change he sees is in how much more she is smiling. She offers a humorous smile after a joke or an awkward smile when there is nothing else to fill the space between them. But by far his favourites are her unprompted smiles. The times when neither of them has said or done anything to warrant it, but yet when he looks over at her she responds with upturned lips and a sparkle in her eye. Like joy is just exuding from her.

"What was it like for you?" she finally asks quietly, breaking the placid silence that has held them for so long. It isn't a startling break, not like when someone breaks something in a hushed, congested room, but more like the first firework finally going off after the crowd has been sitting and waiting for the show to start in eager silence.

He makes a small, "hm?" sound in the back of his throat, trying to drag himself out of the sleepiness that had finally started to set in. His mind had drifted to how nice it would be to pull her against him and fall asleep tangled up in her limbs.

"Losing your mom." Tris's voice is much smaller now than it had been before. Tobias's eyes fly open and find hers again. Her wide smile is gone, replaced by a contrived attempt to not look as sad as she obviously feels.

The sharp pang of loss hits him, not just his own but hers as well. Clearly something had to have happened to Tris's parents to lead her to living on the streets. Even if she had chosen to leave them, he could still imagine the hurt she must be feeling. "Oh," he answers, surprised by the question and a little caught off guard. "Well, I was pretty young when it happened."

She doesn't respond, just stares at him and waits for him to continue. She props her head up as she leans on her elbow and he swears she leans in closer. It has a hypnotic effect on him and makes him forget about wanting to avoid this question with everything in him.

"Uh," he starts again, trying to clear his mind and focus. "I had only been in kindergarten a few weeks and it was after my dad started making a lot more money than he used to." Tobias could still remember the shift. From the fancy celebratory dinner that he'd gone to in his tiny, stiff suit to the move from their moderate, comfortable house into the small mansion they'd live in for six years before they moved into an even bigger mansion despite having one less person with them. "I don't really remember my mom and dad every really liking each other all that much, you know, they weren't really the affectionate kind of parents." He thinks back on the way they would fight, the dishes being thrown and the holes in the wall from when his father's fist missed its target.

"But I guess what I remember the most about my mom dying was how sad my dad was." It was the three month lull before the storm. His father had thrown himself into his work in the most detached manner Tobias had ever seen. He didn't talk about it at the dinner table but he did come home at night with a briefcase filled to the brim with papers. Sometimes he didn't even come home at all. His father was surrounded by work but didn't share with him any details of what he was doing. "He wasn't that sort of guy, still isn't, but I remember finding him sitting in his big office chair facing his fancy fireplace with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. I walked over and looked at him, thinking he'd be asleep, but instead he just had tears streaming down his face."

The memory, although old and blurred with time, still resounds in his mind painfully. His mind recoils as Tobias tries to draw it further out, not wanting to visit that time again. "It was the first and last time I ever saw him cry."

He decides that he can't say anything more. There isn't much else to add anyway, but still Tris gives him several moments to continue before speaking herself. "What did he say to you?"

Now he thinks she just wants to torture him, bringing every sad and painful memory involving his past to the surface and forcing him to relive it for the first time since it happened. "He said it was my fault."

Immediately, Tris's mouth opens in protest and she shakes her head in disagreement. "But how does that even-"

He considers stopping, letting her deny that it was his fault and finding solace in her words of comfort. But now that this memory has been unburied, it's desperate to come out all the way. "He said that and then he threw the bottle of whiskey against the stone wall of the fireplace, shattering it everywhere and making me cry from the loud sound of the crash. I started crying for my mom." Tobias still remembers how his hands flew up to his ears, not even upset by the broken glass itself, but by what followed this moment and others just like it. Whenever his father got like this Tobias had called for his mother and she would swoop in, sending him off to his room and absorbing whatever anger his father was dishing out that night. "My dad he…he's a firm believer in corporal punishment, and as drunk as he was, he picked me up by my neck and slammed me into the wall across the room and choked me."

Even now, the memory makes his hand fly up to his throat to verify he's still breathing. It had probably been no more than a minute that his body had been without oxygen, but Tobias still remembers feeling that he would never breathe again. How long a minute can seem when you're at death's door. "He just kept saying it was my fault and then he threw me on the ground and left me there."

The room had spun around him for several minutes and he had lain on the plush carpet and cried for a very long time before finally picking himself up and putting himself to bed. "That room smelled like whiskey up until the day we moved."

It's odd how awful such a memory can be and yet how detached he can feel from it now.

He's surprised to say the least when he looks over at Tris to find tears falling from her eyes. "That's horrible," she whispers, her head shaking in quiet denial. "That's really, really awful." And then those silent tears aren't enough of a release for her sadness and she lets out a guttural sob, her hands flying to her face to hide it from him.

This time he doesn't sit frozen, terrified of the crying girl in front of him and instead moves into action. "Hey," he says quietly, sitting up and pulling his legs up far enough that he doesn't hit their dinner tray as he moves closer to her. "Tris, I'm sorry, it's okay." Clearly his story had been too much; perhaps even a trigger for her own past. "I'm so sorry, it's alright." His hand reaches up to stroke the top of her head, doing its best to run through her hair without getting caught up in any tangles.

Much to his shock and surprise, she throws her arms around his neck and buries her face against his chest. Neither or them says anything while Tris continues to sob, her hot breaths blowing against Tobias's neck. He rubs her back and tries to soothe her without really knowing if what he is doing is at all comforting. It feels right, though.

Eventually she calms down, but he continues to rub her back. She makes no move to disentangle herself as her sobs subside into quiet whimpering. Her sadness makes his heart clench painfully.

When her breathing is finally regular and quiet again he dares to whisper, "Tris?" trying not to startle her.

She sniffs and then moves to get off of him. He lets her go reluctantly. She wipes her face with her sleeve, exhaling with a ragged laugh as she shakes her head at herself. Tobias sits, reclining against the headboard as she crosses her legs underneath of her and stares back at him for a minute. "I'm really sorry," she says, hanging her head in shame.

Tobias is touched by her reaction and empathy for him. Her apology is unnecessary, of course, and he just waves it away. "My fault," he answers.

But Tris's eyes just widen in horror. "No! No, don't you see? It's not your fault. None of that was your fault." He knows she's referencing the death of his mother and the abuse of his father and that she is holding her own emotional breakdown over it in low regard. "Oh God, that was just…that was terrible."

It's the way she communicates how much she cares about him without actually saying it that fills him with desire again, the kind where he wants nothing more than to lean in and press a long, glorious kiss to her lips. Tobias knows there has never been anyone in this world since his mom died who has cared about him the way it seems Tris does. It makes his heart ache for more. "Thanks," is all he can manage to say, though.

Tris wipes her eyes again and sniffs, her nose clogged. "_I'm_ sorry," she laughs lightly. "I didn't mean to have a complete breakdown on you." He swears she flushes red from embarrassment but it's gotten too dark to tell.

"You're good," he lets her know, wishing he could pull her into another hug.

It catches him off guard when she does it instead. Leaning in and wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him there in all the right ways. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Tobias," she says against him, her breath hitting his shoulder in a reminder that her lips are mere centimetres away. He closes his eyes and imagines the sensation of her pressing them there gently, their warmth and softness moving up to his jaw and eventually to his own lips where he could finally seize the opportunity to show her just how much he cares about her.

But the only way for him to express his feelings right now is with words. Even those must be balanced carefully between not enough and too much. When she finally pulls away from their embrace he says, "I'm really glad you're here". He hopes she knows that he means not just in this moment, and not just because she listened to his sob story or because she cooks him dinner or keeps him company. Tobias hopes she knows that he is genuinely glad for every moment she's here, and for all of the ways in which they have helped each other. He desperately wants to keep being the person who helps her.

Once again she smiles, the traces of her earlier sadness wiped away. He isn't sure what to call this smile. It isn't awkward or the result of a joke. He wonders if just maybe she's also expressing her feelings for him in the only way she can right now. No words and still no kisses between them, just a smile to remind him that she, too, is happy to be here.


	23. Dance

**Okay I know, I know, late again. Apologies. One of these days I'll get my life together (probably not). But my usual thanks for your support and positive reviews and of course a huge thank you to BK2U. She spent a lot of time cleaning this up for me so a huge thank you for all of her time and effort. **

**Next update you can expect on Monday-ish if I can actually be on time this week. The kids have off school all week next week so I will be trying my best. Thank you all again. I hope you enjoy and have a lovely weekend!**

It's the dull grey light of morning seeping through the curtains that reminds Tobias how urgent it is that he get out of bed. If only the mattress wasn't so soft or the covers so warm; or, most importantly, if the girl lying next to him wasn't still there, sleeping peacefully. She might not be a vision of perfection with her hair all ruffled, her mouth half-open and her light snoring off and on throughout the night, but Tobias thinks she's beautiful regardless.

It's hard to say who dozed off first, or when they realized they were just going to end up sharing the bed for the night. Tobias considers it an unspoken agreement. At some point they both just accepted that neither one of them was going to bother getting up and leaving. They had lain on their sides, looking at one another and chatting idly about things that didn't truly matter but which felt intimate to them. Things like the soccer team Tobias played on as a kid or Tris's favourite type of music. It was a calm, relaxing conversation. Clearly calming enough to soothe them both to sleep.

Tris had recovered from her earlier outburst with no further tears, and neither of them mentioned it again. Tobias felt it was an honour of sorts, that she finally felt comfortable enough with him to let her guard down and allow her emotions to spill out unchecked. As he woke this morning, reluctant to face the day, he laid there quietly and thought through it a bit more. He thought about the tear splatters on the dining room table and the quiet crying in the corner of his couch. Perhaps his tragic story was the catalyst for Tris's breakdown, but he could see that it was just the tip of a deeper iceberg. Tris is just so terribly _sad. _ She has a deep-rooted sadness that seems to consume her. It's always been there, but it's coming to the surface now that her tough exterior has finally started to crack. She doesn't hide it as much as she used to.

There's no question in his mind that she has left something behind. Even the loneliest of people have something they might want to leave behind. A person can hate and resent something with every fibre of their being and still not want to leave it forever, but obviously Tris had been desperate enough to take that drastic step. Whatever had been going on was terrible enough for the pros of leaving to outweigh any negatives. But the more time Tobias spends with Tris the less he is able to picture her as a criminal on the run or drug dealer or some other unsavoury character. It just seems exceptionally unlike her to be that kind of person. People change, he knows, but it just doesn't fit with his mental image of her. Tris seems more the type who is just trying to escape.

It reminds Tobias of when he felt trapped as a kid, during the dinner table lectures or the board meetings he was forced to sit in on, or even when he got himself dressed in that stupid school uniform every morning. He'd dream up some elaborate escape plan where he would steal his dad's money and run like hell in the opposite direction, hopping a bus or a plane or whatever other kind of transportation he could find. Honestly, he probably could have stolen a car and vanished four states over before anyone even noticed he was gone. Sure, he could go to jail if his dad called the cops on him, but that was never a huge concern to him. One time he had even packed to leave, his clothes and essentials stuffed in a duffel bag, and ready to make a large withdrawal with his bank card for the very last time before he cut it up and threw it out forever. To most people, fifteen would seem too young for someone to be on their own. To Tobias, he'd been on his own since his mom died and it couldn't happen a moment too soon.

At the end of the day, though, there was something that kept him from following through with his big, reckless plans. It was a voice in his head, one that didn't sound much like him or his dad, but the same voice that kept him showing up to his job every morning and stressing over stupid projects that his father probably only gave him in order to watch him fail again. One could call it his conscience, a guilt complex, or maybe just his innate need to please. It was quite possibly the only piece of him that ever truly remained consistent. The rest of the time he was much more volatile and changeable: harsher, angrier, more closed off, but then he could decide to be someone different, the type of guy who takes off his coat for a homeless girl, for example. In school he dabbled in every genre - the artsy kid with too dark hair, the athletic dickhead, hell, even the outcasts. Eventually, Tobias accepted that being no one at all was what he was best at. Despite all of the other alterations he could make to himself, even to core things like religion and morals, that small voice, a voice that sometimes shouted in his head, never went away.

Fifteen year old Tobias felt stuck at home, desperately praying for eighteen to finally just show itself and allow him to leave. Now, twenty-one year old Tobias felt stuck in his office, frantically hoping for some different opportunity to present itself. This life he lives is a slow burning torture that never relents.

So last night when Tris had dissolved into this completely unexpected blubbering mess, he'd been pretty certain that it wasn't completely due to the sad tale he had shared with her. He was very familiar with that hopeless cry, the kind when someone looks at the road ahead of them and sees nothing but desolation. No way forward and no way back. The feeling was all too familiar, and just the thought of it sent a pang of pain through him.

Tris was very nice to sleep next to, he had concluded. Of course, he hadn't technically known she was there until he had woken up and found her right next to him, not quite touching each other but close enough that if he rolled toward her just slightly he could feel her breath on him. Her presence exuded serenity. Tobias had forgotten that such a thing even existed.

So what has really been keeping him in bed this morning isn't how warm his bed is or how cold the outdoors is, or even the icy atmosphere of that dreadful office building; the whole reason could be found in the gentle breathing of the girl next to him. He may not fully understand his feelings for her yet, but he does comprehend that she is the only constant force of positivity that exists in his life.

Eventually, the minutes have ticked away and he knows he has little choice but to get up. If he dares to not show up today he might not have a job to show up to tomorrow. The looming threat still holds a surprising lack of motivation for him. From somewhere within he manages to find the energy to get out of bed and start his usual morning routine. This morning he is very careful to not walk out in his towel, although getting dressed in a hot, sticky, bathroom is slightly more difficult than one might imagine.

By the time he walks out of the bathroom Tobias is convinced Tris will be up and following her usual morning routine, handing him his already made coffee and pouring dry cereal out of the box. So he's slightly taken aback when he walks into the bedroom and finds her still fast asleep, having shifted in his absence to the middle of his bed. She looks so peaceful that it seems like the universe is sending him a reminder that everything really is going to be okay. So he covers her back up carefully and fights any urge he has to kiss her on the forehead, and walks out the door.

Surely, if Tris could live on the freezing cold streets for who knew how long he could handle the icy atmosphere of the office every Monday through Friday.

"Tobias!"

Before he can even manage to make it to the front desk he hears his name being called out. He has the feeling that this is just one of many times that he'll be hearing it today. All he wants is to go to his office, discard his coat and briefcase, and then hide himself away for the next eight to ten hours.

His sour mood vanishes quickly when he realises that it's Christina calling for him and not some scared secretary looking to pull him straight into a meeting because his father had commanded it. He smiles a bit at Christina, and she reciprocates. Her early morning excitement is a little too much for him given the current lack of caffeine in his system. So he just kind of grunts in acknowledgement as Christina grabs his arms and pulls him toward the elevators. "Come on, come on, come on! I have something to show you."

His protests prove to be futile. The elevator dumps them off on her floor and she guides him to her office. "I've been waiting for you to get here," she tells him with an accusatory tone. "Sure took you long enough."

It only takes a quick glance at his watch to remind him of how late he is. Undoubtedly, he'll be paying for this later. Briefly the thought that perhaps he shouldn't be wasting time down here with Christina flashes through his mind, but ultimately he decides that he's late already and when has an extra twenty minutes ever killed anyone?

"Don't worry," she says, seeming to read his thoughts as she unlocks her office door. " You can just tell your dad it's my fault you're so late today." Tobias is actually somewhat touched by her words, although he would never throw her under the bus like that, even if his father did barely know her name. She needs this job much more than he does.

The office is in its usual state of disarray, which is oddly comforting to him. He plops himself across from her desk and puts his feet up on a relatively clean space. She shoves them off and he laughs in good humour. "Alright, so what hare-brained idea have you conjured now?"

She holds a finger up and then produces a backpack from underneath her desk. "Look!" she says excitedly.

"You're…going back to school?" he asks dubiously and she rolls her eyes in response. Then she unzips it and begins pulling out the contents. Quickly he catches on. "You actually made some?"

Christina shrugs, "Will and I made about fifty last night before we got…distracted."

Tobias makes a face and shakes his head. "Too much information." But he takes the bag from her hand and starts a silent inventory of everything in there. Toothpaste and a sleeping bag and hand warmers, the list continues on from there and even though it's something that's really incredibly simple, gathering together a few necessities for those who don't have them, Tobias still remembers all of the time and hard work they put into this project. He also thinks of all of the people they're going to help, girls like Tris and boys like the one she'd given her coat to.

Tobias sets the backpack on the chair and leans across the messy desk to hug Christina. She laughs in his ear at his obvious excitement. "So I take it you approve?"

The difference they'll be able make, that's all he really cares about. He can only imagine what it would have felt like to hand one of these over to Tris and know that he had a hand in making her just a little more comfortable. He can hardly wait to see the joy on her face when he tells her the progress they've made and how soon she'll be able to help distribute them.

"You're brilliant," he comments and she bows, which makes him chuckle. "I'm afraid I have to go upstairs to hell now, though," he says with a sigh.

Christina shares a look of disgust with him at the idea. "Can I steal your time for just one more minute?"

With a shrug Tobias sits back down, not exactly eager to leave. "Shoot," he answers, leaning back and making himself comfortable.

"It's about Tris."

He freezes, knowing that there are multiple ways this could go but with only two possible outcomes: pretty good or really bad. "What about her?" He clears his throat and shifts in his seat, preparing for whatever comes next.

"When did she come around?" Christina asks, her voice feigning innocence but her tone filled with mischievousness. "I'm only asking because when we went to the bar just a few weeks ago she didn't seem to exist and now…well, Tobias, you're kind of a completely different person these days. And I'm pretty sure it's all thanks to her."

He debates for a moment whether that's an insult or not. "Tris is a friend that I'm…helping out."

Thankfully, Christina focuses far less on the helping out bit and far more on the friend part. "_Just _a friend?" she questions with a cocked eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

"Last I checked," he scoffs. With anyone else this conversation would cause his irritation to grow, but Christina's knowing smile and his own flip-flopping heart just cause him to grin instead. "Unfortunately."

"Ha!" she exclaims and then smiles cheekily at him. "I could totally tell you had a thing for her."

He just waves her off though, trying to shove his too-prominent feelings back down. "It's all a moot point, though."

Now she sits back and shoots him a confused look. "Why? Is she seeing someone?"

"No," he answers but his mind does flash back to the night when she walked away from the bar with that jerk grabbing her ass like he owned it.

"Is she gay?"

"No!" Although he hadn't technically confirmed it with her, he does feel pretty confident in that assessment.

Christina lets out a sigh, "Damn, I could've gotten into that. If you know what I mean."

She shrieks when he sends the first object he can find right at her head. And then she laughs raucously, loud enough for the rest of the whole damned building to hear, but he joins in anyway. "Alright, alright," she holds up her hands in surrender. "But what's the game plan, then?"

All he can do is shake his head at her. "There is no game plan. The game plan is to live together in harmony without adding any more weirdness to the situation."

Christina's jaw drops open and Tobias quickly realises what he's said. "You _live _together?!" He buries his face in his hands and tries to think of a way to rectify this. "Oh honey, I can have you two making out in a New York minute in that case."

Tobias shakes his head, momentarily stuck on the mental image of Tris and him and their lips and the various things they could do with that combination. "I'm not looking to make out with her."

"You totally like her," she insists, rolling her eyes like he's still attempting to keep it a poorly concealed secret from her.

"I'm aware of that," he answers gruffly. The situation is already making him crazy without someone reminding him of it. "Tris doesn't need someone to make out with her, though."

Christina waves the comment away before he can continue. "Oh trust me, we _all_ need someone to make out with us."

This conversation is proving difficult, as he doesn't want to explicitly say that what Tris really, properly _needs _is a friend to care about her and a place to live. The last thing either of them needs right now is to make their lives any messier with sex. "Tris is my friend and she needs a friend, not anything else."

"And you?" Christina asks, pretending to find her cuticles interesting. "What do you need?"

He thinks it over, really considering what he needs, and what caused him to invite her in to begin with. Sexual attraction had not played a factor when it all started. Bringing her coffee and checking in on her and his terror when he called 911 had nothing to do with wanting to kiss her. Those feelings had all come after. To begin with, he just…cared for her. Maybe because no one else did or maybe because he could only imagine the sort of life she had been forced to live. But he honestly got involved because he saw her as a girl who was all alone in the world, and he knows exactly what that's like.

So his answer is simple and not in the least bit special, but it holds a note of finality to it. "I need to help her.

Tobias never really pictured himself as the type to enjoy coming home to someone. He hadn't even wanted a goldfish once he'd moved out. The idea of being completely on your own with no one waiting on you or wanting anything from you was enormously appealing to him. He would only be responsible for himself and no one could give him hell for going to the gym at two in the morning or for being loud when he would make mac and cheese in the middle of the night. He would never have to worry about anyone else's shifting moods or if someone wanted something from him.

For eighteen years he couldn't wait for this opportunity, and then for three he had revelled in how much he enjoyed it. But now, as he walks home in the freezing cold with his hands buried deep in his pockets, he can't wait to go home _to _someone. He feels anxious and excited and keeps smiling at the thought of hearing her voice and making her laugh.

He's already smiling widely when he steps out of the elevator, but the sounds emanating from his door catch him off guard. It doesn't take him long to figure out that Tris has music blaring. When he opens the door, she's nowhere in sight. The music carries all through the apartment and her voice accompanying the absurd rap leads him straight to where she is.

Tris stands in front of a laundry basket that sits on his bed, one of his T-shirts in one hand and a sock in the other, taking the song's lyrics to, "Jump around" a little too literally as she dances hyperactively to the extremely loud music.

There is something completely hilarious about someone as small and as white as Tris dancing so unashamedly off rhythm. She shakes her hips and bobs her head and when they get to the chorus again and they chant, "Jump! Jump! Jump!" she doesn't miss the opportunity to join in.

He wonders if she'll ever notice his presence considering he currently stands in the doorway laughing the hardest he thinks he ever has. Finally she turns around and sees him standing there and freezes, rushing to pause the computer and cease the noise that's spilling out from its top of the line speakers.

"Hello," she says and clears her throat, shifting from one foot to the other. "Did you have a good day at work?"

He really does try not to burst into laughter again - okay maybe not that hard - but he can't help himself as he clutches his stomach and laughs whilst she turns an even brighter shade of red.

"Shut up! It's old, but it was still popular in middle school." He doesn't know why but it makes him laugh all the harder. Tris thankfully has the good humour to stick her tongue out and throw his own T-shirt at him. "As if you never dance when you're alone."

Once he pulls himself together he just raises his eyebrows and shakes his head at her. "Never." He hadn't ever felt inclined to turn his music to an ear-shattering volume and shake his hips around like some yo-boy.

"What?" she screeches as if the music is still on. "You're kidding."

He smiles and shakes his head, completely enamoured with her appearance; the wide-eyed look she shoots him, her hair in a messy bun, and his T-shirt rising up above her hips as she raises her arms to put one of his shirts away. "Maybe I'm just not as inclined to make a fool of myself," he answers with a shrug, pretending like he is much more mature than her.

"No one is completely exempt from making a fool of themselves," she answers and stares at him for another few seconds before returning to the computer and typing something in. Almost immediately the sound of Offspring fills the apartment and the beat of "You're Gonna Go Far Kid," kicks in. Tris joins in with a set of air drums, challenging him with her eyes and her wide smile. She sings along with the lyrics, impressively knowing all of them, and when the song gets to "dance fucker dance," she screams well over the music and grabs his hands, pulling him further into his bedroom and continuing to dance just as before when she thought she was alone.

Her hips move and she shakes her head so hard that he's pretty sure he sees her ponytail holder shoot across the room. He surrenders and moves his body just enough to placate her, but when it gets to the guitar solo and her body is pressed up against his in ways that aren't necessarily appropriate to a rock song he can't help but join in wholeheartedly. The both of them jump and dance around, singing the lyrics as loudly as they can, Tris's hands grabbing his or running down his arms or swiping across his chest.

Dancing is truly a wonderful thing.

When the song ends they both breathe as heavily as if they'd just sprinted around a track, and Tobias can even see a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. Their smiles continue to infect one another as they just stand there, breathing heavily and smiling in the now silent room before Tris giggles again.

"See? We all need to dance."

Tobias shakes his head, remembering an earlier comment made by Christina that sounded quite similar to the words that had just come from Tris. She returns her attention to the laundry, folding socks and pants and probably his underwear he thinks, feeling a bit embarrassed. He ignores it as best as he can and instead goes over and scoops up some work for himself, then returns to hover right in her space until she looks up at him. When she does, he lowers his face just barely and quirks his lips. "Maybe we all just need someone to dance with."


	24. Run

**Good evening! I'm sorry it's so late in the day but I've only just gotten home from work and this was the first opportunity I had to upload. Yes, a bit short this time but I felt the length worked well like this for this chapter. Much thanks again to you all and of course to my ever reliable editor who keeps me in check with each update!**

**I hope you all enjoy, this was a fun one to write. To follow schedule the next update should be on Thursday, but seeing as that is Thanksgiving here in America I don't really think it will happen. So I'd say expect an update perhaps Friday night sometime. Thank you all again and let me know what you think!**

Sleep evades Tobias for the next few nights. Either he lays awake in worry over the upcoming assignment or he lays awake thinking about Tris.

He tries everything. Tea, music, scents, even stupid cell phone apps, but all to no avail. Sleep is a game of capture the flag and every time he grabs a hold of it, the flag just slips through his fingers all over again. So after three nights of dozing off for twenty minutes and then lying awake for an hour, he finally gives in to the pounding in his head and the ache in his joints.

He needs to move.

Unfortunately by this hour even his gym has shut down for the night, leaving him with limited options for exertion. Regardless, he throws on his sweatpants along with a few extra layers for warmth. The hat he pulls over his ears is quite possibly the best idea he has had all night. In an attempt to avoid disturbing Tris, he walks out of his room on tiptoes, his phone and ear buds in hand. He creeps as silently to the door as he can and then sits down on the hardwood floor to begin lacing his sneakers.

He's caught up in thinking about what a stupid idea this is when he feels a tap on his shoulder. Instinct takes over and he immediately goes on the defence, shying away from the unexpected touch.

"Sorry," the voice says quietly. Even though it was just the two of them, she still whispers as if she might disturb someone else. The darkness has a certain peace to it that must not be disrupted.

In an attempt at nonchalance he pulls his laces a bit tighter and begins his usual knot. "You're fine, you just startled me." The shrug he offers doesn't feel particularly sincere to him. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Tris sits across from him on the floor, crossing her legs and biting her lip. "It's okay. I wasn't sleeping anyway." It had never occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't the only one unable to sleep. "Can I ask where you're going at…two in the morning?" She glances over at the green numbers illuminated on the microwave and then looks back at him.

Again he tries to play it off casually. Instead of a man desperate for the chance to breathe after suffocating night after night he pretends to be someone who commonly enjoys midnight runs in freezing temperatures. "Haven't been for a run in a while." Hadn't worked out at all in a while, actually. All his time lately has been consumed with his daily battle between doing what he was expected to do, wasting his life working to study the dull facts his father had given him to learn, and what he wanted to do, enjoying the companionship of someone who always brings a smile to his face.

"And you thought now was the time?" she asks, her voice filled with a hint of laughter. She clearly thinks he is absurd but when he stands up and starts to stretch out his hamstrings she adds hopefully, "Can I come?"

This was not quite the response he anticipated, nor did he really know what he should say. Tris is spindly, weak and worn from however long she'd gone without enough food to fill her stomach and an illness that took what little vitality her body once had. To let her come along would destroy his reason for going. He'd be forced to carry on at her pace and be completely consumed by the image of her legs shifting underneath her and her arms swinging at her side and the swish of her ponytail.

To say no, however, would be arbitrary and quite frankly not the answer he wanted to give at all. "You'll freeze," is the one thing he does consider.

But she just shrugs her shoulders. "I have stuff to wear. Besides, I lived in this weather for years. Running in it will be much more pleasant than sleeping in it."

In defeat he holds up his hands, happy to oblige. "Then by all means."

She smiles and darts off to change, re-emerging a few moments later in some sweatpants and a long sleeved T-shirt that she pulls a sweatshirt over top of. None of the fancy Under Armour thermals to keep her from freezing. Even the sneakers they had purchased a couple of weeks ago don't really look up to the task of running. Thirty dollar trainers paled in comparison to Tobias's name brand ones.

Even so, she pops back up after tying them and smiles widely at him, excitement in her eyes. He wonders since he's so desperate to get out of this place how much she must want to escape as well. As far as he knows, she hasn't left since they went out this weekend. How depressing it must be to remain stagnant in the same place all day every day. More like a prison than a home.

He brings up the extra hat he found and pulls it onto her head, settling it over her ears. She readjusts it so it isn't in her eyes and then smiles up at him again in thanks.

They step outside of his apartment and Tobias can already feel the slight temperature drop in the hall. He can only imagine what it will be like outside. The only thing that reassures him is that it had been warm enough during the day to melt whatever snow or ice that may have remained on the sidewalk.

"Do you do this often?" Tris asks as they stand in the elevator. She looks like she is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

The answer to that is no, not anymore. He remembers when he was younger and he would take off at fifteen, sixteen years old, just slipping out the door in the middle of the night and running. Sometimes it was agonising, the pain from his father's attacks making his chest ache or his legs feel like they might fall off. But that was half the beauty of it: that simple pain, consistent and steady, made him feel like he had control. Of course he didn't really, but damn it sure felt like he did in those moments. "Not like I used to."

She doesn't probe any further. As they step outside into the freezing temperatures she asks, "Is it safe?"

That's a pretty good question, he thinks. In his teenage years Tobias felt himself invincible out on the streets, convinced no one out here could be worse than the monster back home. Now he thinks of the shootings and muggings and the host of other things that could go wrong. It feels a little reckless, and even more so letting Tris come along, but it also feels so right as his feet touch the pavement.

"Safer than staying in there any longer," he answers out loud, quickening his pace to a brisk walk. Tris has to work hard to keep up with him because of her short legs.

It's only minutes later that he breaks into a jog, his feet meeting the pavement with a satisfying smack. The freezing air burns his lungs with each deep inhale and he watches the condensation in front of him as he breathes out. His face stings as the wind blows and he wishes he'd thought to wear gloves.

None of that really matters to him, though. His legs fly beneath him and his arms pump, the rest of the world forgotten aside from the girl who keeps stride next to him. That she is struggling a bit to breathe is not lost on him, though. He can only imagine how her newly recovered lungs are reacting to the sharp intakes of such cold air.

Impressively, she keeps pushing through and it's over twenty minutes before she shows any sign of slowing. He decreases his pace as well to a light jog. Now that their feet aren't pounding the pavement loudly and the harsh wind is decreasing, he can hear how heavily she breathes. At first he's concerned, berating himself that he's a dumbass to take someone like Tris out in this weather at such a late hour.

But on closer examination under the next street light he sees not just her heaving chest, but also the wide smile that fills her face, the light in her eyes and the rosy red glow of her cheeks. She is alive in a way that Tobias isn't sure he's ever seen. "Doing okay?" he asks. One glance at her answers his question, but he wants to hear it from her.

"Amazing," she answers breathlessly. They keep at their light jog for another few minutes until they've looped back around to his apartment's street. Tris looks over at him, a challenging look in her eyes. "Race you!" she shouts, taking off down the street before he even knows what has hit him.

He watches her disappear as she steps out from under each streetlight, and for a long moment he's completely mesmerized by everything _Tris_ before he suddenly takes off after her. "Cheater!" he shouts, even though it's the middle of the night and people are trying to sleep. Fuck people.

Tris's answering shout of laughter is the burst of energy that propels him forward, causing his hand to hit the stone railing of his apartment building a mere second after Tris's does, only a centimetre from where hers rests.

Both of them let out all sorts of muffled giggles as they attempt to stay quiet, but they are still filled with the adrenaline of a two o'clock run.

"That was brilliant!" Tris shouts in a whisper as they step through the front door, both of them shivering but barely even noticing with all of the neurons firing throughout their bodies, delivering too much stimuli for either of them to care much about being cold. "The most brilliant I've felt in years, Tobias. It was like…like-"

"Like being alive," he fills in for her as she breathes heavily and steps into the elevator. She turns back and looks at him, waiting for him to join her.

The look in her eyes is expectant. If only they were slightly different people at a slightly different time in their lives, Tobias is convinced this is the look she would wear whilst grabbing his tie and pulling him into the elevator with her, crashing their lips together in a frenzied passion.

Unfortunately, they are the very same people stuck in the same exact time as when they had left. So instead, he just steps over the threshold and joins her, his own eyes challenging her now. _Go ahead,_ they say. _Just go ahead and make a move._

But of course she doesn't. Instead she stays wide-eyed and wild-haired, to him the picture of perfection.

He swings the door wide to his apartment and she kicks her shoes off, forgetting all about placement as she crashes through the apartment to the kitchen and fills two glasses with ice water. Tobias kicks his own off and carefully toes them into place before following her. She holds the glass out and he takes it from her, letting his hand graze hers in the process.

"That was fun," he says, elation still filling every joint of his body. His muscles are made of the electric joy that is a late night run and his tendons are the energy surge that keeps one going before a complete shutdown.

Tris snorts in response. "Fun is a complete understatement." Her enthusiasm is incredibly cute, he decides. She pulls herself up onto the countertop and still her smile remains.

"I take it you like to run?" he asks, because although they'd been out a decent amount of time, it certainly wasn't long enough to release the endorphins and hit that runner's high that he was so fond of.

Her answering sigh and the way she lays her head back contentedly on the cupboard door is all the answer he needs.

They stay that way for a while, him sipping his water as he leans against the island and her sitting there with her head laid back, picking it up every so often to take a drink of her own. It's a mutual silence that both of them settle into comfortably until finally, blessedly, Tobias begins to feel truly exhausted.

The best part about running in the middle of the night during winter? He was barely even sweaty. The fact that his shower can wait until morning is another wonderful realisation.

"I'm going to head to bed, I think," he tells her, setting his glass in the sink.

Tris jumps down from the countertop and does the same. "Probably a good idea," she answers, even her own elated expression has been dimmed with the onset of mild exhaustion. "We should do this again sometime," she says through a yawn.

"Perhaps during daylight next time, though," he suggests and Tris shrugs like it's all the same to her. He answers her yawn with one of his own.

Standing in front of him, she holds his gaze before reaching in and hugging him around his neck, on the very tip of her toes to reach around him. He hugs her back around her waist, desperate to not let go. "Goodnight," she murmurs against his ear.

"See you in the morning," he promises back, pulling away enough that they both can see one another but still holding on.

She bites her lip and he fights all of the desires that are telling him exactly what he should do right here, right now. He shoves them away and reminds himself what needs to be done. So he pulls away, knowing the hug has already gone on too long.

He holds up his hand in another silent goodbye and disappears down the hall, closing his bedroom door behind him. Tobias falls onto his bed, flopping on his back and staring up at the ceiling, grinning widely up until the moment when he dozes off to sleep. He does not wake again until his alarm goes off in the early morning to remind him of the start of yet another day. The promise it holds is what lures him out of bed this morning. Not for the opportunities at work or the prospective Friday evening, but the simple thought of Tris in the next room.

At one point he had really just hoped that he could be what she needs. A warm place to sleep, enough food to eat, maybe even a comrade in the world of the chronically lonely. But as he wakes up this morning and slips out of his room with an unexplained smile on his face he realises, perhaps instead she was what he had been needing all along.


	25. Pieces

**Hello again! I hope all of my American readers had a wonderful Thanksgiving yesterday! And if any of you dared to go Black Friday shopping then I hope that wasn't terrible either. This chapter is another long one so I hope you enjoy it!**

**Once again, of course my thanks to BK2U for all of her hard work with this. She always does her best to make these chapters as good as they can be. Thank you as well to all of your support! Next chapter will be posted some time on Monday most likely. Have a lovely weekend everyone **

The final days of preparation are fast approaching. It feels more like the countdown to the beginning of a war when really it's only a business meeting. A war would likely be preferable to Tobias. His panic spurs him to quickly transform Friday night into an ongoing training session.

At first he just sits down with his notes after work to scan through them. He falls onto the couch and intends to just glance at each page. But the more he looks the more apparent it becomes how little he actually knows. All of these figures, the statistics, even some of the vocabulary just throws him completely off. It's a whole other language, and it's one he's been half-heartedly trying to learn for weeks now. He's still lost.

Tris had offered her help but he had turned her down, afraid that her presence would distract him yet again. All he knows is that when he walked in the door after work the sun had not yet set, but now everything is cloaked in darkness. At some point she must have flipped a light on for him.

The roiling in his stomach and sweat on his palms keeps him focused long past when he wanted to throw every single paper out the window. He can procrastinate like nobody's business, but once the threat begins looming closer, all he can do is panic.

Monday, he only has until Monday. That thought is the loudest one currently resounding in his head. The fear has him convinced he'll be up all night with this, surrendering any hope of sleep because he knows he'll just lay awake and freak out further.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he has a guilty thought that he has barely acknowledged Tris since he's gotten home. He doesn't want to be that person, the one who doesn't care about those around him, but the matters at hand are too pressing to worry about politeness. Or at least that's what he keeps telling himself.

After a long while, Tobias figures she's just gone and fallen asleep in his bed, and he tucks all thoughts of Tris firmly aside for the rest of the night. Instead of being passed out somewhere, however, she is standing right in front of him and literally pulls the scattered papers from his fingers. He looks up at her incredulously, a small part of him feeling angry until he sees the plate of food she balances on the palm of her other hand.

"Time for a break," she says softly, setting all of his stuff on the coffee table, turned over so he can't even look at it if he wants to, and hands him his plate. "Sorry," she says and he thinks she means in reference to pulling the papers out of his hand. "We're running a little low on options for food."

Tobias sees exactly what she means as he glances down at his plate to find a pork chop, baked beans, and the same green beans they'd been eating for the past three nights. She had also added two buttered pieces of bread, doing her best to stretch the meal. "We can go shopping tomorrow," he promises, even though all he can think about is how there's not enough time for sleep, let alone shopping.

Tris perches herself next to him, sitting on the edge of the cluttered sofa. "Are you sure I can't help you?"

It's sweet, Tobias thinks, as he chews more food than he ever thought he could fit into his mouth. He shakes his head to buy time until he can swallow. "I appreciate it, but I need to do this on my own. I'm sorry I'm in your space though, I'll move so you can sleep."

A wave of her hand assures him that such a thing isn't at the forefront of her mind. "Please, it's not like I do much sleeping anyway."

The offhand comment garners his attention and he pauses his voracious eating. "Are you not able to sleep?" he asks, remembering last night, or technically early this morning, when she had been up. For whatever reason, the idea that she might have trouble sleeping on a couch night after night had never occurred to him. Now that he thinks about it, it seems nothing but obvious. He can switch off with her; that would be fair.

Again Tris just shrugs away his question. "Can I ask why this is so important?" She bites her lip and he can feel nervousness exuding from her, though he isn't sure why. He relaxes his own posture by leaning back and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Tris imitates by resting herself into the cushions and tucking her feet up under her.

"It's just work stuff," he answers, trying to make it sound as mundane as possible. It isn't just work stuff, though. It's the difference between freedom and subjugation. Safety and fear. A small part of him is irrational enough to even shout from the recesses of his mind _life and death_. His father would never kill him over work. He had to have enough faith in the man to at least believe that.

His words are so unconvincing that it's not surprising when Tris doesn't buy it. "Why do you do it?" she asks him. If it was anyone else in the world he'd probably just make something up. Something about money or how great his life is because of who his dad happens to be. A lie would be so much easier than the truth.

But of course it's not someone else. And Tris just sits there with her eyes wide and innocent, asking him for the simple truth. "Are you sleeping okay?" he counters instead, because he resents the way her eyes can do that to him. How stupid of him to drop all of his defences due to one simple look. His guts have already been spilled out on the ground for her to do with as she wished. Admittedly, she's done nothing to discourage any form of trust, but this give and take is lacking any sense of take. He has a right to questions, too.

Tris bites her lip and seems to contemplate answering. "I haven't slept well at night for a really long time."

The truth makes him feel ashamed. He's not sure exactly why. Not noticing? Or not asking before, maybe? "You should have said something, Tris," he tells her quietly, forgetting about the damn meeting for the first time all night. "Tell you what, I'm going to be up all night working on this. You should sleep in my bed tonight."

"Can I just hang out here with you?" she asks.

The question takes him by surprise. The warble in her voice has quite an effect on him. All he wants to do is pull her against him and shield her from whatever it is that keeps sleep away. "Of course," he replies, reaching a hand out to tuck some of her loose hair behind her ear. "Thanks for dinner. You know you really don't have to do that stuff."

It's a regular concern for him that she feels obligated to do all of these things, like cooking and laundry and cleaning. He didn't invite her to stay with him in order to gain a maid. He just hopes she knows that. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

This, too, feels like his fault. Should he offer to help her find a job? He could get her one at the office, probably. But will that insult her? Maybe she doesn't want one...

His greatest fears are confirmed as he realises that now that the papers are no longer in his hand and Tris is sitting next to him, he doesn't care in the slightest for all of those dumb facts and figures. He wonders what she would do if he were to just lay his head in her lap. He imagines that she would brush hair off of his forehead. He can even see her being the sort of person who would bend down and press a kiss to his lips. It's a nice thought.

"When I used to study for a big test," Tris says, picking his papers back up off the coffee table and flipping through them. "My brother would quiz me at every opportunity. Even if we were brushing our teeth, I swear." She laughs lightly at this. "I used to get kind of annoyed by it but then I figured it was just because he wanted to see me succeed."

It might be a terrible thought to have when Tris is finally sharing a story from her carefully guarded past, but Tobias can't help but wonder if she looks at him in that same way? Does Tris think of him as an older brother who would quiz her during mundane life tasks? Is he a family figure to her?

Surely it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Ultimately he knows that he should be happy just being whoever it is Tris needs or wants, and that nothing else really matters. But the thought disturbs him so that he can't help but try and read her a little more closely, desperate to figure this out.

"Do you miss him?" he asks cautiously.

Tris seems to weigh her answer carefully before saying anything. "I miss what my life used to be," she finally says.

"And what was that?" he asks quietly, leaning in closer so she can't hide behind his papers.

Again she stops and thinks, like she can't quite remember what the answer to this question is. "Safe and happy and everything that makes life…normal."

"Sounds nice," he adds, because he doesn't know if he has ever been familiar with happy. He knows for a fact that he and safety are strangers. "How long has it been?" Perhaps he is pushing his luck, he knows. She isn't obligated to share a thing, and he wouldn't blame her if she told him to fuck off. His curiosity propels him forward, though. "Since you last saw them, I mean."

Once again he experiences a pang of guilt as he sees her visibly fight off tears. What has he done? "Almost four years," she chokes out. For a brief moment Tobias is worried she's going to dissolve into a sobbing mess like last week. His hand reaches out and rests on top of her knee. "It's funny," she starts without a trace of humour in her voice. "How you can be one person but feel like the pieces of yourself have been left behind, some in places you don't even remember."

Her words don't seem to make much sense until he thinks about it more deeply. He remembers how he, too, felt like pieces of himself had been handed out. Some buried six feet under with his mother, some shaken and beaten out of him, a few lost in an office with not enough heat and too many closed off businessmen. Perhaps in this moment there's even some resting in the papers still clutched in Tris's hands. Tris. He'd happily offer her all of his pieces.

He wonders where her pieces are. With her family, her friends, her home, on the streets, in the beds of strangers? How sad to think that pieces of her had been spread out so far. How much does she have left?

Tonight she doesn't look sad, and her eyes aren't close to shedding tears. No, tonight she appears defeated, the very image of someone too weak to carry the burdens she's shouldered for so long. He can see the weariness in her eyes, the exhaustion in the slump of her shoulders. He knows that kind of misery that makes someone cast their eyes downward like that.

All he wants is to make it better.

"I'm really worried about this thing for work on Monday. I have to do this big presentation since my father will be out of town, and it's really important that I get it right." His confession is his way of reminding her she's not alone, not an attempt to solicit her sympathy for his minor problems. He wants her to know that he feels trapped,too.

Bonding over mutual hopelessness can be of use, after all.

"What happens if you don't get it right?" she asks, not bothering to reassure him. He likes that.

His exhale of worry is not as nice, however. "Bad shit, Tris. A lot of bad shit."

She swallows, shifting uncomfortably where she sits. "Would he…hurt you?" her voice is small and feeble. Even though there is no threat to her he can still feel fear radiating off of her.

Just about now he would do anything to reassure her. "I'm a little old for that nonsense, don't you think?"

His words sit between them for several moments. He really isn't, he knows. His father was a fan of the belt up until the day Tobias had left that house. Now Marcus likes to use it as a running joke, but really it's more of a thinly veiled threat.

"Some people are just terrible," she mutters, pulling her knees to her chest.

There's little choice but to agree with her, which he does with a quiet, "Yeah," and a small nod of his head. "Hey," he says, long after silence had comfortably enveloped them.

"Hm?" she asks, her voice tired, like perhaps she'd been dozing next to him. He knows she hasn't fallen properly asleep, though. Her breathing always shifts once she is fully asleep.

"Thanks for not being terrible," he whispers, his forehead falling to just barely touch hers.

She smiles a tired smile and cracks her eyes open just enough to look directly at him. "Ditto."

Dawn has broken, but the only thing that manages to wake Tobias is the sensation of someone shifting on top of him.

At first he thinks nothing of it; he simply tightens his hold and buries his face into her hair. But then realisation breaks through the haze of sleep. His eyes fly open to find Tris almost entirely on top of him, curled up with her head resting in the crook of his neck. She lets out a sleepy sigh and settles against him.

Her weight against him doesn't feel constricting, just reassuring. Although he knows that he should disentangle himself and cede the space to her, especially now that he is awake and oriented, he can't quite bring himself to do so. Even with his sore muscles and stiff joints all he cares to do is tighten his hold on her slightly.

For a while he just lays there, not really trying to fall back asleep but also not forcing himself to stay awake. There's no panic or dizzying worry over the stock market or how to present the company's recent drop in the last few months buzzing through his head, just her steady breathing against his neck and the slow beating of her heart pressed against his chest focusing all his attention on her.

He does spare a thought for the potentially awkward moment when she does wake, but he just can't bring himself to care. Instead, he watches the slow rising of the sun and lets his fingers run very carefully through her knotted hair.

It's an intimate moment, even if only one of them is awake for it. Tobias can feel the tension in the air, a spark that will not be ignored. He thinks of the ways he could wake her, with kisses or fingers running down her sides or tracing patterns into her back.

But alas, he simply lies still and hopes not to wake her. Mainly because he doesn't know what to expect whenever she does happen to wake. He'll just revel in this moment for however long it lasts.

Finally, she does begin to stir and although his first instinct is to hold her close he loosens his grip. At first she just stretches out, her hand practically assaulting his face before he has the chance to move it, and then she rubs the sleep from her eyes. A moment later she makes her own physical calculations, similar to the ones Tobias made, and as soon as she realises her position she blushes a fierce shade of red.

Her eyes look up and find him staring down at her. He can't help smiling. "S-sorry," she stammers, as she scrambles to move off of him.

Not for the first time he wishes he could just say what he really thinks. Or do what he really wants. Tris sure has a way of testing his self-control. "Don't worry about it," he assures her, offering a yawn and a stretch as he sits up. A rather large part of him hopes that she thinks he has only just woken up as well. "Don't know about you, but I slept pretty damned well."

Actually, he did know about her, because had she not slept it would have woken him up. He wanted to hear her say the words, though. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." She shakes her head and takes several steps away from the couch.

It makes him think of all of the other nights they'd fallen asleep together. The first night on the couch and the time in his bed. Both of those times had been a peaceful night's sleep. They had also been intimate and personal in their own way. This, however, this was an entirely different level.

Tris winces as she backs away, and he swears he sees fear in her eyes. She looks like a caged animal as she stares at the spot where they had been sleeping.

"Sorry," he says, even though he's not really sure what he's apologising for. Tobias supposes it's because she is so obviously uncomfortable. Though last night had not been intentional, it's still clearly freaking her out. "I didn't mean-"

Immediately she cuts him off. "It's fine," she says in a small voice. The look in her eyes and the pallor of her skin suggest otherwise. Damage control is apparently going to be necessary.

Admittedly, her reaction is a bit hurtful to him. He would gladly sleep next to her like that every night for years to come, yet she is visibly upset. He needs to defuse the tension before Tris works herself up any further. "So, grocery store?" he asks, trying to re-establish some semblance of normalcy even though they both seem to feel like the entire Earth shifted beneath them overnight. Perhaps because their personal Earth had.

She nods, turning to the couch to fluff it up. He wonders if she really cares that much about the state of his cushions or if she just wants something to do. "Just let me shower first."

"Good idea," he replies, feeling very much in need of a shower himself.

They both hover for a moment after that, neither of them saying much of anything before finally Tobias just turns and walks out of the living room, having nothing else to say and unable to bear any more silence.

His shower is brief and his clothing choice painless now that he's gotten the hang of the whole casual clothing scene. Jeans are a staple, he has decided. He never thought that Tris would beat him, but somehow she's managed to not only shower and dress faster than him, but she's also frying the last of the bacon and eggs. Again he feels bad that she is always doing the cooking and cleaning. He feels like a slave driver in some 1950's marriage. He fights to keep himself from making yet another comment, however.

She keeps her focus on the stove whilst he goes into the kitchen and makes them both a cup of coffee. "Do you have a lot of work to do today?" she asks him as she prepares their plates. Her voice is too polite, more formal than he has ever heard it before. Her words are clipped, her tone professional.

Tobias doesn't stifle his disgruntled groan. The last thing he wants to think about is work, again. Just the mention of it makes his insides shift uncomfortably. Suddenly that bacon looks less appealing. "How about you and I just hang out for a bit?"

Again she says nothing. Her whole attitude is off; all of her vibes are wrong as she attempts to exude cheer, but instead only coldness emanates from her. "Tobias," she sighs, as they both take their seats at the island. She poises her fork to take a bite but he doesn't feel much like eating right now. With every passing moment his stomach feels more upset, only he doesn't think it's work-related this time.

"Yeah?" he asks, trying his best to sound nonchalant. His attempt at normalcy is even worse than hers.

This is it, he thinks. It's finally all been royally screwed up by what happened last night. Although, what happened last night was technically nothing. Cuddling, that's all it was. Cuddling is innocent. People cuddle with puppies and babies. Nothing is more innocent than puppies and babies. Somehow he feels that defence will not be good enough against whatever may happen to come out of Tris's mouth next.

She clears her throat and puts down her fork. He can feel the gravity of the conversation just from that small gesture. The weight presses in on him, reminding him of the feeling of claustrophobia he so hates. "We should talk."

His heart plummets. "Look, if this is about last night, I don't know what happened any more than you do and-"

Her hand is enough to silence him. He remembers the moment when she was rambling and he pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her. That was an intimate moment.

This is not intimate, however. He has never felt as clinical with Tris as he does right now.

The tone of her voice expresses heavy defeat. No other emotions surface as she says, "I like you, Tobias." Immediately he knows what she means. More importantly, he also knows what she does not. She is not confessing attraction, but admitting to a tolerance. A _but_ is heavily implied for wherever this is going next. "This can only last so much longer, though."

There it is. He doesn't know what he might have been expecting before this moment. For her to stay here forever? Yes, he realises. A part of him had actually believed that this thing between them would turn into forever. Whether as friends or so much more. He hardly expected for her to opt to go back onto the streets rather than stay with him.

"The weather is getting warmer and I'm almost completely better. Today is my last day on antibiotics." Her argument must sound weak even to her ears. "This can't continue forever."

At first, he's confused. Even though he predicted what she was going to say, he still didn't think it would happen. When the realisation does hit him, that she's saying that she is leaving him, it hits him hard. A part of him knew this day would come, even though he'd ignored it. But he's not prepared for the moment to be now. "You're…leaving?" The idea is absurd. Two weeks. They had made this work just fine for two full weeks. And now all of a sudden it was going to come to an end? Why not two more weeks? Why not until all of the snow had actually melted? Was she really so desperate to get away from him?

"It's not…practical for me to continue to stay here."

When had practicality ever mattered to them? "I don't care about practical, Tris." He argues earnestly because he doesn't know what else he can do. "Am I so despicable you'd rather be on the streets than on my sofa?"

It surprises him that he's said those words aloud. The question is very real though, and very painful. Mainly because he feels like her choice screams the answer, with words unnecessary.

"This isn't about you," she disputes with a vigorous shake of her head. "You've been nothing but kind and caring and thoughtful and-"

"Then why are you so desperate to leave?!" he can't control his temper as his voice rises. He isn't prepared for her to leave him. Not this morning at least. Not after waking up like they had this morning. "No offence, Tris, but I don't think you have a whole lot going for you out there. Let me help you. I can get you a job even."

She waves away his offer. "That won't work."

"Why, because you don't want a job? Would that be too much work for you or something? Is it easier to live off of the sympathies of others and the horniness of the scumbags who pay for your body?" It's a terrible accusation. Not only is he essentially calling her lazy but he is taking something about her that surely she did not want known and throwing it back in her face. Hard. He's an asshole for doing it but all he can think right now is, why help someone who won't help themselves?

The hurt is instant; she knows exactly what he is saying. She swallows it down and continues on. "I'm doing the only thing that makes any logical sense here."

"Where the hell is the logic?" He holds his arms out as if searching for it, looking around as though it will jump out at him and announce itself. "All I see is someone who has too much damn pride to accept some help and who would rather get herself killed on the streets."

Again his words hit her and she just sits there for a minute, opening and closing her mouth. "I am not doing this because of _pride_, Tobias." She spits his name like venom. "There are factors I'm taking into consideration that you couldn't even begin to understand."

He can't help but wonder if that was her own dig to insinuate a lack of intelligence on his part. He chooses to ignore it. How much smarter can a girl who sleeps on the sidewalk really be? "Then why don't you tell me?"

Perhaps if he had softened his voice and been gentler with her she would have relented. Maybe if he'd been more of a friendly confidant instead of a red-faced, bumbling boy she would have just given in. But instead he has become too angry, his voice too resentful. "Why don't you just fuck off?" she retaliates, her hard shell encasing her yet again as she stands up from the island and scrapes her unfinished breakfast into the garbage disposal.

If she had her own room, Tobias is certain she would have stormed off and slammed the door.

"So is this it?" he asks, all his anger suddenly gone and replaced by an aching sadness. He sits, defeated, a plate full of food in front of him while she stands and fumes. The 180 that has occurred since this morning has left him feeling whiplashed. When he woke up this morning he was the happiest he had probably ever been. Everything about that moment seemed so right, and now nothing has ever been more wrong. And he can't figure out why. That's the worst part.

Tris stays facing the sink and he when he glances up to watch her again he sees her fingers tighten over the rim of the sink for a brief moment before letting go. Her shoulders slump and he hopes beyond hope that she'll just break down and let him in. "I don't understand," he whispers, desperate for her to see how confused he is. Had he done something? If so, how could he fix it?

"I'm sorry, okay?" he asks, getting up from the island and walking to where she stands. "I'm sorry about…everything I just said and then some. Just…please don't do this."

_WHY_ plays over and over in his mind. He doesn't understand why she would do this. "What about the project? You and Christina need to finish it."

Tris shakes her head and when he takes another step towards her she takes one more back. He stops approaching her, reminded of the caged animal look she had in her eyes earlier this morning. "No, remember? I'm on the receiving end of that project."

Just a hug, surely he can convince her if she would just let him hug her. "It's time for me to go." Her voice is cold and he wonders if it's because of his earlier words or if she would have been this way regardless.

"I don't want you to," he says hoarsely, hating the way moisture grows in his eyes. The concern for her is paralyzing. But the idea that the only real friend he has in this world, the only person who knows anything about him, doesn't even want him enough to stick around for free food and a warm place to live is crushing him. Obviously, he isn't even worth the few things he can offer her.

Her weakness pushes its way through to the surface finally as she turns and reaches a hand out to his face and strokes it gently. "I know."

He has just enough time to press against her hand and savour her touch for half a second before she pulls it away and turns to walk down the hall, shutting herself in the bathroom.

This feels surreal. All he wants is a chance to do it over: to wake back up on that couch and slide out from under Tris before she can wake up. Maybe that would prevent whatever had just happened. He desperately wishes he could go back five minutes and not say those terrible things to her, calling her lazy and accusing her of prostituting herself. But he thinks of those freezing nights and her infected lungs and of course he can see why she would have chosen to do what she had to do to survive.

Why must he be such an atrocious human being? He isn't kind at all. He is selfish and cruel.

This would be a little easier if he understood it at all. But just last night everything was fine. There was no talk of leaving and no fear in her eyes as she sat next to him. He needs to figure out what has changed so he can somehow make it right again.

Her abrupt change of heart has left him reeling. What will he do now? What will happen to her?

He knows what comes next, of course. They've done this before. Right now she is packing a trash bag with some of the things she has obtained and then she will walk out of his front door and he'll be forced to watch the whole thing, helpless to stop it.

Despite everything he knows about her, he somehow hadn't expected it to happen again. The pain of it is too overwhelming.

He's experienced a lot of pain in his life. Beating after beating, along with hateful words that assaulted his ears and embedded in his brain. None of it compares to this pain, however. He just knows when she walks out his door this time around she'll be taking vital pieces of him with her. Ones he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to live without.


	26. Partner

**Hello everyone! I know, I'm late. I'm sorry but at least it's another long chapter, right? Seriously though, this chapter has been finished for a while but it was hell to edit. Were it not for BK2U and the time and effort she put into editing this it would not even be half of what it is now. She had the knowledge that I seriously lacked when it came to this chapter and she really took the time to make sense of everything. So really, a HUGE thank you to her and all of the effort she puts into this, not just on this chapter but all of them! She's saved my ass more than once now!**

**Again, apologies for lateness, I know a lot of you were looking forward to the update on Monday. Next chapter will still be posted on Thursday so long as everything goes according to plan. My thanks to all of you!**

The weekend passes by in a blur. He doesn't go to the grocery store. He doesn't study the notes for his meeting on Monday. He doesn't do much of anything.

On Saturday morning Tris had gathered some of her belongings wordlessly, leaving many behind. He stood in the kitchen, completely frozen as he watched her work. He wanted to tell her to take everything he had bought for her, but he couldn't quite get his voice to work.

When she finishes he just stares at her, broken and desperate, and says, "Are you sure you won't stay?" He hates himself. He hates the way his voice quivers. He hates the tears that gather in his eyes. He hates the way he has to bite his lip to stop them from falling.

"I'm sure." He hates her more.

All he can do is nod at her before he turns from the kitchen, walking past her through the doorway to go and lock himself in his bedroom. He's halfway down the hall before she speaks.

"Tobias?" she calls after him and, even though he's not the one going anywhere, she still sounds frantic, like he's going to leave before she can say what's on her mind. As if he could ever walk away from her. His words seem useless so he just turns to face her. "I just wanted to say that I'm really grateful for everything you did for me."

He scoffs. Some way to show gratitude. Still, silence is his friend in this situation.

"I know you don't believe me, but this really is for the best." Tobias briefly wonders if she's trying to convince him or herself.

For the best, he thinks. Sure. Why wouldn't freezing temperatures on the streets be for the best? Why wouldn't dirty clothes and greasy hair and selling your body be for the best? How can a life half lived be better than embracing something more? That's all he wants to give her. Something more.

"I guess I forgot how much better the sidewalk is compared to here." His voice is bitter and he doesn't bother to say anything more. It's time to just walk away and lick his wounds in private. Right now her words and presence are just rubbing salt into them. "You know the way out," is the last thing he says to her before stealing one last glance then turning and walking away slowly.

The slam of the door still echoes in his mind now, hours after she left.

Tobias feels adrift, rudderless. He doesn't pick up the phone when it rings, he doesn't turn the TV on, and he doesn't clean up his plate from breakfast that morning. All he can do is exist. He doesn't feel much of anything, because when he does it hurts too damn much so he shuts it out as fast as he can.

Eventually, Monday comes. It announces itself with a too bright sun and too many chirping birds. Why the fuck are birds back in the beginning of February? Knowing what has to be done, he pulls himself out of bed and forces himself into the shower. The water is too hot but he doesn't care enough to adjust it. He just stands there and lets it scald his skin, hopeful that it will sanitize him of this whole shitty weekend. Or maybe the last two weeks, or last month and a half entirely.

Next he gets dressed, his best suit coupled with the tie his father gave him on his first day at the office.

"_You're officially part of the business, son," he'd said and Tobias swore he saw a proud glimmer in his eye as he patted him on the shoulder. "Welcome aboard."_

Funny, at the time he had thought that maybe his father would love him more now that he was working for him.

He had a feeling that today, whatever love his father may have had was about to run out for good.

He takes the time to comb his hair neatly, knowing his usual routine will just not be good enough. The comb and the styling gel and the blow dryer are all a bit foreign to him, but he makes it work.

It takes all of his focus not to glance toward his sofa when he walks out of his room. Tris still had many belongings that she had left behind, most of which were scattered around his living room. And that sofa, that fucking sofa. Maybe he'll just burn it.

The food from Saturday morning is clearly spoiled and smells awful. He can't bring himself to toss it yet. His stomach growls and Tobias realises that even though he feels completely indifferent towards food right now, his body is not. He eats to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping during the meeting.

He does have a passing thought to grab his notes off of the coffee table, thinking about studying before he has to go to the meeting, but ultimately decides that walking into the living room is just not worth it.

He puts on his shoes and grabs his keys, all the while feeling like he's about to throw up. Either from the protein bar he had forced himself to choke down or, more likely, from nerves.

At the last second he decides against leaving through the front door and heading out onto the sidewalk in order to begin his walk to work. He knows himself too well. He knows exactly what he will do to himself day after day if continues to walk. His heart will break each time he walks by, whether she is there or not. He can't do it.

So instead he steps into the parking garage and starts his car. From now on, he'll drive to work.

Tobias is technically late for work but still early enough for the meeting. So when he walks into the office building everything is already in full swing, energized by the hustle and bustle created by vendors and employees who dart every which way.

The elevator he was waiting to take is too full, so he walks away from it, unable to bear the idea of crushing himself in with all of those people. Instead, he disappears into the stairwell and walks up forty-nine flights. His heart is pounding hard by the time he reaches the top, and his breathing is ragged. Somehow, he relishes the pain.

His office is dark and desolate. Honestly, he isn't sure what else he expected. There's something about it that he just can't help but resent as he walks in. Perhaps it's the light that switches on automatically, like a fluorescent nightlight from hell, or maybe how everything is perfectly placed. The right angle of the computer, the aligned stacks of envelopes, the colour coordination of Post-its. He hates it all.

Finally, he decides that he needs to get himself together. This pity party has to come to an end. It isn't about to solve anything, after all. Wallowing in bed will not make her come back, nor will failing to eat or sleep. Neither will completely bombing this very important meeting on which his entire livelihood depends. No, instead he must banish Tris from his thoughts.

Easier said than done.

It was his own fault, for allowing her into every aspect of his life as he had. She'd crept up on him, but he still saw it happening. He knew what was going on and did nothing to stop it. He wanted it that way. He wanted her in every way. Now, he was just royally screwed.

His eyes watch the clock while he makes a mental decision not to run his hands through his overly styled hair. It takes an exorbitant amount of effort.

Finally, with just ten minutes to go before the meeting, his computer dings and his phone vibrates and his email pops up, all of them reminders of what awaits him. As if he could ever forget.

It takes all sorts of effort to force himself out of his chair and to pick up his briefcase. He makes a point to grab some other papers, ones with nothing really written on them, but which he thinks may be a helpful prop.

The good news in all of this is that his father will not be home for three glorious days. No punishments will rain down upon him until Marcus flies home. Tobias plans to spend every second of those three days away from this office building. He probably won't even leave his apartment building, though, if he's being honest with himself.

There had been many days when he had apathetically arrived at meetings, several weeks at a time when he merely trudged his way into his office and did absolutely nothing. Hell, he had worked here for nearly three years now and all he ever really did was exist. But somehow he doesn't think that will work too well in this situation. He doesn't know what he plans to do, but he walks in the room and sits at the head of the table, setting his briefcase next to him.

This time he has no fancy graphs or snazzy statistics. He doesn't even have knowledge. He has only his wits and twenty-one years of bullshitting experience.

He sits there for more than ten minutes and has just gotten up to pace when the secretary swings open the door to allow the men into the room. Or, on second glance, men and women. The person who comes over to shake his hand is not the typical older white male, but a relatively young woman with darkened skin. She is Asian, although several of her features hint that perhaps not exclusively so. Huh, he thinks to himself. Refreshing.

"Tori Wu," she says as she extends her hand. She has an authoritative voice and stands with her shoulders squared. Her grip is pretty damned firm, too.

"Tobias Eaton," he responds, smiling, but only slightly as he isn't really sure if smiling is the correct thing to do in this situation. Does his father ever smile? "Thank you for meeting with me today, Ms. Wu. I'm sorry my father couldn't make it."

She waves away his niceties and he sees a brief flash of a tattoo on her wrist. "I was actually quite intrigued with the idea of meeting with you, instead," she says, slightly raising her eyebrows. "I've met with your father often enough to know exactly what he has to offer."

He pauses, unsure of how to respond to that. Does she like what his father has to offer? Does she want to see if he will extend the same offer? Goddamn it, what negotiations had they taken part in already? What had they offered her? She could say that his father promised them half his company and he wouldn't know any better.

Well, this should be interesting.

"Please, have a seat," he directs, after shaking hands with the one woman and two men that are accompanying Tori. Instead of the bored and disdainful expressions most attendees of these meetings have, Tori's group looks more like they anticipate something exciting is about to occur. One of them is even smiling.

Once everyone is seated, Tobias knows he is probably supposed to start with some sort of long-winded sales pitch. "So, I know you've already had multiple meetings with my father, both here and in your Seattle headquarters..." he begins, hopeful that Tori will fill in just what has gone down in those meetings. Quite honestly, Tobias is surprised she is here at all if his father has already met with her in person. Marcus normally won't deign to associate with anyone whose appearance diverges from the norm.

She sighs, "Oh yes, I've had the immense…pleasure of speaking with your father on several occasions." One of the men chuckles just loudly enough to be heard. Tobias is fairly certain he sees her kick him under the table. "May I be frank?" she asks.

He's distracted by her perfect posture and the bright red streak in her hair that's supposed to be tucked away out of sight, but which clearly sticks out in contrast to her dark hair. Shaking himself back to reality he nods. "Please do." He hopes that her frankness signals that she is already sold on this deal and that this meeting is merely a formality. Then they can just sign the papers and be on their way. Even in the midst of this meeting he still doesn't think he has what is necessary to successfully steer it where his father intends it to go. He just doesn't care.

"I'm here for you."

He blinks, once, twice, and then cocks his head slightly. "Excuse me?"

She laughs light-heartedly as do the other three. "I suppose that came out a bit creepy." Tobias raises an eyebrow sarcastically, as if to say, you think? "My apologies. What I mean is, I've had many discussions with your father. He's a smart man, even a genius in some matters." Tobias just nods his head as though he agrees. "His business skills are impressive and his charisma is overwhelming." Somehow this sounded both good and bad all at once. "But, I have to say, he's a bit of an asshole."

Had Tobias made the mistake of taking a drink just then he would likely have choked on it. As it was, one of the men who had come with her, the shorter one with dark skin, had dropped his jaw in shock. A part of Tobias wanted to laugh, another part wanted to agree, and the rest of him tingled with fear.

Tobias opens his mouth to agree as politely as possible, but Tori holds up her hand to stop him. "You don't have to respond to that."

"Thank you," he says with a sigh of relief and a silent chuckle. He exchanges a surreptitious smile with Tori.

The creaking of chairs as people shift around and the slurping of one of the men as he sips his coffee are welcome sounds, filling the void before Tori begins again. "Your father and my father were old adversaries. However, they both respected each other as warring businessmen who admired each other's battle techniques." The scene she paints sounds exactly right. "But my father is old, and my brother is dead, so it seems you are stuck with me."

"I'm sorry," he responds automatically. "About your brother," he clarifies. "Not that you're here."

Again she laughs lightly, "Thank you. I'm not who your father wanted to work with, as I'm sure you can imagine."

He chooses to play dumb and shrugs noncommittally.

"For one, I'm a woman," she says, with a pointed look. "And secondly, I have my mother's skin tone and features along with her last name."

"Race and sex are not discriminated against here," he recites from their policy manual. He can also spout out the fire evacuation plan and how to enter vacation time into API.

The young woman who had introduced herself as Lynn scoffs in response. "Race and sex are discriminated against everywhere," she says with an eye roll. "But especially in a place predominantly run by men."

"Save it for the protest march later," Tori says good-naturedly, though Lynn looks a bit peeved. She turns her attention back to Tobias. "I heard you were working on a charity project. Something to benefit the homeless?"

Tobias is shocked that she's heard anything about this. He is certain his father would deny his involvement in such matters. "Well I was, but I had to pass it on to a few other employees to focus on…other projects." Tris, he thinks, with a pang of sadness. He wishes he could sing her praises right now. She and Christina deserve all the credit for his project, so near completion. Now is not the time to dwell on her, though.

Tori exchanges a whispered comment with the tall, stocky man next to her. "That's the sort of thing I'm looking for."

"Charity projects?" he asks, not bothering to hide his surprise or disbelief. Marcus hates charity projects. Waste of time, waste of money, waste of manpower, or at least so he says. At the end of the day he only permits them because the company had received so much backlash for being the only big corporation left in the area that didn't participate in some manner.

She shifts her eyes in thought before answering in affirmation, "Compassion." The word hits him harder than he had expected it to. Had he shown Tris any compassion Saturday morning? Or was it merely anger rearing its ugly head? Does he really possess the sort of compassion she is looking for? "I'm in this position today purely because of who my father is. I assume you got here under similar circumstances."

Tobias nods, no point in hiding the obvious. It's refreshing to talk to someone in the same exact situation. "Sounds pretty familiar."

She smiles, acknowledging their comradeship. "From what I've heard of you, and I've done a fair bit of research, you might see my vision far more clearly than your father would ever attempt to do."

If Tobias knows anything about his father, it's that he doesn't see anyone else's vision, just his own. "Depends on what you're about to propose," he counters, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in front of him. Funny, how he'd walked into this room with the sole purpose of winning these people over with his company's impressive stock performance and even more impressive net worth, but instead they'd begun trying to win him over.

"Change." The word creates a ripple effect through the room, radiating outward from Tori and affecting each person there. The concept is powerful, driven by that one word.

There's a reverent silence that follows her declaration. "Such as?" he asks, eager to hear more details of her intriguing proposal.

"Well, look at me!" She pulls down her hair, letting the bright red streak swing free and holds her arms out, allowing her wrist tattoo to be visible. "I'm a young, biracial female who looks the polar opposite of the sort of person you'd expect to find in my position or in this place." She has a point. Offices were not always welcoming of tattoos…or women, for that matter. It was a sad truth that he often ignored. Promotions were not handed out to women for a variety of reasons. His father blamed it on their desire to start families rather than commit to a career, their raging hormones, and even their emotional thinking. He always says women belong on the lower floors because men are always on top. Tobias had ignored the gross euphemism.

Tobias acknowledges her sentiment and he appreciates it, really, but he is also realistic. "We run businesses, not countries," he tells her, sitting up straight again. "Aside from adding a feminine touch, what difference do you think we can really make?"

She wrinkles her nose in distaste. "I'll forgive your feminine touch comment, but I want you to really think about what I'm going to ask you." He nods in assent. "When was the first time that you really felt this job was worthwhile?"

It doesn't take long for the answer to come to him. He knows it immediately; after all, it wasn't that long ago. She doesn't wait for him to answer. "I thought so."

Tobias decides that he likes her. "So...what? You're suggesting we take our multimillion dollar corporation and turn it into a worldwide charity project run by women?"

She shakes her head at him. "I'm saying we change the face of business. How it's run, how clients are approached, and how we relate to them." The idea is definitely progressive if not radical. "Start with how we advertise and then work on our hires. There are men in the upper echelons who can barely stay awake and who contribute nothing while young men and women downstairs are carrying around these wonderfully creative ideas that go completely unheard."

"Are you saying we force people into retirement?" While Tobias doesn't disagree with her observation, he also doesn't like where she seems to be heading with it. "It's hardly fair to take the experienced men who have worked here for decades and then kick them out."

Tori gives him an odd look and then laughs at him. "I don't think you understand, Tobias."

She isn't exactly being clear. And it also isn't like he's at the top of his mental game today. "Enlighten me," he replies sarcastically.

The smile that grows across her face is both frightening and thrilling. "We don't want to partner with this company."

Oh shit, Tobias thinks. Well, he did suspect that this would happen all along, but it doesn't make matters any easier. How is he going to tell his father? What will he do now that he doesn't have a job? Will he have to move back home for good? Will he be under his father's punishing thumb forevermore? The thought creates a roiling pit in his stomach.

"Did you hear me?" Tori asks loudly, which pulls him out of his thoughts.

"You're not interested, I get it." He'd rather not hear it again.

Tori forces him to hold eye contact for several seconds before she speaks again. "We don't want your father's business or his Ivy League employees or even his money." Again she smiles a Cheshire cat smile as she leans back and crosses her legs. Tobias couldn't break eye contact with her now even if he wanted to. "Tobias, we want you."

Several hours later and his head is still spinning. This whole time, Tori had informed him, they hadn't really been coming to this meeting to partner with Eaton Industries at all. They had arranged this meeting solely for the opportunity to talk to him.

Tori had recently acquired her father's entire company as dementia forced the old man into retirement and triggered their succession plan. Initially, she hadn't wanted to take control of the business and had planned to just sell it off. But then she delved in a bit further and realised the sort of opportunities that were possible. With the near-billion dollars she now controlled as a result of her incapacitated father's trust agreement, she had created all sorts of plans. But her main stumbling block was that she needed other people who agreed with her vision, yet also had a solid background in business. Most of the other people she had approached with her plan had laughed in her face, calling her another defect of the failed generation.

"That's when I decided old people weren't going to be much help." Tobias chuckles at that, but does come to the defence of at least a few members of his office. Many of the older employees still had plenty to contribute, and didn't have their heads so far up their own asses that they were of no damned use. She wants young minds, she says, the kind which haven't yet been so trampled by society's expectations that every ounce of free will and creativity has been stamped out of them. "You intrigue me, Tobias, because despite the fact that you are obviously being groomed by your father to fall right in with the old guard and their methodologies, you've clearly extended yourself outside of that rigid mindset and shown that your instincts and potential are leading you in the same direction that I want to go. I need someone who can help me run a business, but who can also embrace the changes I've described."

The more she talks the more excited Tobias finds himself growing. She has plans, big ones, and she wants to bring him onboard as a full partner in her new venture, with a generous guaranteed salary during the start-up phase and equal profit sharing once the business is well-established. He would be heading up operations in Chicago, including oversight of their charitable projects, while she works to revamp the existing business model from Seattle.

It isn't the money that's pulling him in, though. It isn't even the idea of finally being free of his father. The thing that really has caught his attention is what Tori has planned for their charitable projects. She wants to start locally, rather small-scale, but gradually work up to going global. Tori is determined to divert some of their profits into projects like building reformative housing for past addicts, single mothers, and, his personal favourite, the homeless. She talks of soup kitchens and foster kids and veterans and then she begins discussing fresh water wells and building orphanages and health care in third world countries. In addition, she plans to fund individual projects and new inventions that just need an extra bit of cash to get them off the ground.

Admittedly, her funding plan isn't flawless given its reliance on profits which can, of course, vary widely, but there is promise given the lucrative business model she already has in place.

Her plans are intriguing to say the least, but if they fail and everything goes belly up, they will likely all be screwed. When Tobias brings that up she just shrugs her shoulders and says that Rome wasn't built in a day, which in no way alleviates his concerns.

When he informs her of his predicament with his father, particularly the one at hand, Tori assures him that she'll convince his father that their meeting was successful and indicate that she is still weighing her options in terms of whether to partner or not.

"I know you'll excel with us, Tobias," she tells him at the end of the meeting. "Just give it a chance. Call me after you've had ample time to review my offer." She hands him a thick stack of papers labelled "Partnership Agreement" and shows herself out while he remains in his seat, dazed and disoriented.

Eventually he stumbles out of the office, feeling slightly drunk as the information rattles around in his brain. He travels instinctively to the one place where he knows someone who will try to help him make sense of it all.

"Come in!" Christina calls out when he knocks on her door.

Before crossing the threshold into Christina's office, he had been ensconced in a haze of confusion. The only thing consuming his mind was the insane opportunity Tori had presented and what he was going to do about it. But as soon as he enters Christina's office he's enveloped by a whole different emotion.

The backpacks and supplies cluttering the floor remind him of this weekend and everything that happened with Tris. He's instantly overcome with the same crushing sadness that plagued him for the last two days. Confusion and depression war it out for a few moments before they seemingly agree to be equal partners in his misery. Suddenly, it's all just too damned much to deal with and his head begins to pound.

Christina is still typing furiously on her computer as Tobias takes a seat across from her and lays his head on her desk, cradled in his own arms. Not for the first time, he's grateful for the dim lighting and pleasant smells of this room.

When she begins to talk, Tobias realises he can't handle anymore stimulation than what he's coping with currently. "Quiet time," is all he says. And, God bless Christina, she turns off the monitor to her computer and lays her head down on her desk right alongside him, just the two of them escaping in the utter silence of her office for who knows how long.

It's so calming, so much so that he thinks perhaps he could finally fall asleep. But eventually he knows he either needs to leave or talk. Neither option sounds particularly pleasant.

"Tobias," she says to break the silence some time later. Time had lost meaning as he'd lain there, but he was fairly certain that it hadn't actually managed to stop. "You look like shit. Spill."

But the words won't come because they're just too awful. He feels so weak, sitting here in silence in Christina's office, so useless because he can't even explain the situation to her. Talking about this weird job offer is too confusing and talking about Tris is too sad. Unfortunately, there's nothing else in his life to talk about.

"She left," he finally admits. His voice isn't as choked up as he had expected it to be. Instead, it merely sounds like a sigh of relief. Saying it out loud solidifies what he had been fighting so hard to ignore. Tris is gone.

Instantly, Christina is in the seat next to him, one hand resting comfortingly on his back. "Are you okay?" she asks gently.

In this moment, Tobias fully appreciates Christina for the very first time. She isn't demanding to know what happened or lecturing him. She just sits solidly beside him and tries to make sure that he's alright. Despite how brazen and flamboyant she could be, he realises that he has managed to befriend a very kind and decent person indeed.

"No," he eventually admits. Another weight off his shoulders as he speaks the truth.

He does pick his head up, though, and Christina watches him for a brief moment before she throws her arms around him and hugs him. "You'll be okay, I promise." she says soothingly.

Her arms act as a shield from the outside world and all of the terrible forces threatening to tear him apart. He wants to hide here forever, much like when he was a little boy hoping his mother would keep him safe from his father's rampages. "Thank you," he tells her as they eventually part. "I guess I will be. At some point."

Christina bites her lip and appraises him. "Can I ask what happened?"

The memory is awful to relive, but he does so anyway. He tells her everything. The way Tris completely changed, literally overnight. The cold shoulder she gave him that morning, the horrible words they spat at each other, and the final goodbye when he turned away from her for good. "I just hate that this is really it."

"Tobias," Christina starts quietly. "Why exactly was Tris staying with you?"

He hesitates, afraid to share her secret when it isn't his to reveal. Oh well, he eventually figures, it isn't like she will be around to share it herself. Besides, his story pretty much spelled it out already. "She's homeless." All he'd wanted was to be the place she could call home. Was it so much to ask? "She's homeless, and she chose no home over having one with me."

His pity party resurfaces and he can't help the sadness that descends on him as he tortures himself with that thought again.

"But surely you don't really believe this is the end of the line for you two." She speaks with such certainty that Tobias desperately wants her to be right. He doesn't know where her beliefs come from, but he'd like to subscribe.

"How can I think otherwise?"

With a shrug of her shoulders Christina stands back up and walks around her desk, sitting back down across from him and switching her computer on. "It's simple isn't it?" He raises his eyebrows to convey that it really isn't very obvious to him at all. "Any two people who care about each other as much as you two do are not going to let this be the end. Trust me."

He'd like nothing more.


	27. When Opportunity Knocks

**Good evening! I hope you all have had a good week and congrats on making it to Friday! Sorry I have yet to reply to any reviews, I'm working towards it. Maybe tomorrow if I find any time. As always and forever, thanks to my editor for all of her work and effort! She's a constant life saver.**

**Next update is technically due for Sunday, which is my goal. However, I have a pretty busy weekend ahead so I'm afraid it might be posted on Monday. It all depends on how things go and how much sleep I need lol. I hope you all enjoy. Once again, thank you for all of your kind reviews and messages. Keep them coming as they really keep me going some days!**

Driving is an interesting experience, Tobias decides as he drives home from work Monday night. He is officially exhausted after the events of the day. His mind is incapable of shutting down. It bounces back and forth between Tris and the new partnership offer he's just received.

It seems like the perfect opportunity has been placed right in front of him. As if the universe has looked upon him and thought, "Oh, what an awful time he's having. Here, let's gift him with this glorious job." Things like this don't just happen to people, at least not very often. Tobias has been both in the game and on the sidelines of business long enough to know that much. Normally, getting to the top requires a tremendous amount of work and effort and a fair amount of backstabbing and brown-nosing. It's not normal for a group of people to just come waltzing into a meeting room and offer a partnership in an up and coming business with huge potential to someone they haven't even met.

So logically, Tobias knows this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. He also knows it might be his only chance of getting away from his father other than through death itself. And likely his own at that, since he's sure Marcus is far too stubborn to die first. If he teams up with Tori, he will finally be able to make his own money and work on his own projects and, for the first time ever, be completely and properly free. The idea is alluring.

But then he thinks about the possibility of the new company failing. He thinks about what he would do if it all went to hell and he was left with nothing. He doesn't have the skills to get many decent paying jobs and somehow he doesn't think flipping burgers would pay the bills very well. Maybe Tris would share her sidewalk with him, he thinks cynically.

Besides, it isn't like he really knows what he's doing well enough to go anywhere near this business. He can barely even manage a business meeting, let alone an entire company! He doesn't have the know-how to do it, despite what Tori may think, nor is he really the type to learn on the fly. If he takes this job, he feels like he would be deceiving Tori, letting her believe he's more competent than he ever could be. She should be offering him a job as a janitor or receptionist. Although, considering the current state of his house, he probably shouldn't be trusted to be a janitor, either. However, that doesn't mean he can completely dismiss what seems like the ideal situation.

He continues his internal debate all the way to the elevator.

He would be lying if he didn't admit that he is silently hoping to find Tris waiting outside his apartment when the elevator doors slide open. The shocking business proposal has helped him focus on something aside from his broken heart for the last few hours, but she still lingers in his thoughts.

Logically he knows she won't be there, but he holds onto hope right up until the elevator doors open to reveal the empty hallway.

The first thing he does when he opens his apartment door is take in a deep breath, only to regret it immediately. His house no longer smells like freshly baked bread or homemade tomato sauce. Now it just smells of rotten food and dirty socks. How depressing.

It's funny, how much his own mind works against him. The first thought he has is that he could go for a run. Which sounds great in theory, but already he can imagine himself running right to her old spot, searching for her on every corner. Maybe she took off and he'll never see her again. Maybe she's already hitchhiked four states over. But he'd be damned if he didn't look everywhere that he could.

So ultimately, he decides no run is for the best.

Instead, he tries to pull himself together enough to clean. He imagines how he would feel if Tris showed up in his apartment right now. No doubt she would wrinkle her nose at the mess and smell.

He starts by picking up the dish from Saturday morning, the breakfast she prepared for him still sitting there practically untouched. It smells atrocious and the eggs have cemented themselves to the plate, so he just tosses the whole thing in the trash. A few minutes later he takes the bag out to the chute not far from his door. He doesn't need that stench in his life anymore.

He decides to conquer the living room next, but all he has to do is walk in there to lose his initiative. He sees his shirt, the one she wore to bed most nights. At first it's a stare down, him and the shirt battling it out, but then he gives in and lifts it to his face, breathing in deeply to pick up her scent. His own is smothered beneath it as well and it only depresses him further, the idea of the two of them mingling like that.

It's pathetic even to him how he lays down on the couch and just stares into the distance, clutching the shirt and inhaling every so often. Just not too frequently out of fear that he might suck all of her smell right out of it.

At some point he decides that he's done with moving, he'll clean more tomorrow. He doesn't know how long he spends staring or how long he ends up sleeping, but eventually the sun begins to break through the morning clouds and he knows he has to get up. Two more days until his father returns home. He'd best not let the entire company fall apart.

Really he'd had no intention of returning to that hellhole of an office until Thursday morning rudely presented itself. But Christina had been insistent that hiding out in his apartment would just make matters worse. So he pulls himself together enough to put on a suit and face the hordes of businessmen and their stupid questions.

Somehow he manages to make it through the next couple of days. Work does little to interfere with where his mind actually resides, however. His thoughts bounce between Tris and the life changing packet of papers that sit on the kitchen counter. He cleans one small thing at a time, worried that he'll erase all traces of her if he's not careful. So far he has stuffed all of her other clothes, including the bra she left hanging in the bathroom and the unworn underwear she had stashed under the couch, into a black trash bag. He tells himself he'll just go and toss it out but then decides he can't do that.

What if she comes back?

Thursday comes around and Tobias knows that his father will be at the office at the crack of dawn after being away for so long. He also knows that his father will want to talk endlessly and will have lists of questions to which Tobias doesn't really have any answers. His only hope is that Marcus will talk to Tori before he has to meet with him. After all, his assignment had been to get them to sign, not just to contemplate their offer further. So essentially, although he had not totally screwed up, he had failed. At least Marcus would be sure to see it that way.

He only just barely manages to pull himself out of bed and stumble into the kitchen to switch on the coffeepot. How sad that turning on a coffeepot could make him miss Tris. He really is pathetic. Mentally berating himself doesn't usually make him stop pining for Tris, but he figures it's worth a shot anyway.

The fridge announces its emptiness prominently when he opens it, just as there's a knock at his door. He can't help it when his heart picks up speed. It's foolish to think it could be Tris at the door. But really, how often does he have visitors otherwise? Not counting the pizza delivery man, the number is nearly zero.

He glances at his reflection on the side of the stainless steel toaster as he runs his fingers through his hair and attempts to make himself look halfway presentable. Unfortunately, there is nothing he can do about the mess. He clears his throat and stands up straight before striding over and opening the door. It's not Tris standing before him; instead, it's his father.

Shit. To say his heart sinks would be an understatement.

"Oh," he sighs. "Hello." It isn't intentional, the disappointment in his voice, but it's definitely there.

Marcus just chuckles as he pushes past Tobias into the foyer. He takes note of Tobias's perfectly placed shoes and does the same. Where else would Tobias have gotten the habit from? "Did your latest conquest leave you high and dry in the middle of the night, son?"

The comment feels like much more of an insult than perhaps he had intended it to be. The idea of Tris being a conquest makes him sick to his stomach. Or perhaps it was just the sight of his father that makes him queasy. "I just thought…"

His comment dies in his throat as his father waves it away, not caring to hear it, and walks into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Tobias is absurdly glad that he tossed that rotting plate a few nights ago. "This place is a mess," he comments with an air of superiority. Tobias used to think that Marcus' nose permanently turned up like that so everyone would know how far beneath him they were. The thought alleviates some of the tension in his muscles.

"I talked to Ms. Wu on Tuesday morning," he informs Tobias as he stirs creamer into his coffee, sparing a look of disgust at the sink piled high with dishes. Tobias isn't sure if this comment is good news or bad. On the one hand, he probably won't have to explain much, but on the other, there is still the concern that he hasn't sufficiently done his job and is about to have his head handed to him. "She told me how the meeting went."

Marcus looks over the top of his cup as he takes a drink, fixing Tobias with a stare. Even now, despite Tobias standing a good three inches taller than his father, he still feels small. Perhaps he should say something, but a response doesn't come to mind. Instead, he just waits with bated breath for his father to continue.

"I must say, I'm impressed." Tobias releases the breath he had been holding and nearly collapses against the counter top in relief at his father words. Impressed - he had impressed his father. Impressed was not often heard in the Eaton household, if at all. Marcus was not impressed by his good grades, athletic prowess, or even the diligent cleaning Tobias used to do before Rosa came into the picture. Impressing Marcus Eaton is like impressing the President or Oprah. It is inconceivably difficult.

"Thank you," he answers, unable to stop himself from smiling. He had _impressed_ his father. This is a moment to be remembered.

Marcus takes another sip and clears his throat. "I have to admit, I sent you on something of a suicide mission." The comment is strange enough to make Tobias raise an eyebrow. "In fact, I lied to you."

Perhaps the words shouldn't really bother him given that it's Marcus, after all, but there's just something so disturbing about hearing someone nonchalantly admit that they have been lying to you. "Well, that's...oh."

"Don't take it personally, now," he replies with a smile and a pat on Tobias's shoulder. "I needed to see if you could pull this off. Wu had no intention of partnering with us, I could tell after my last few meetings with her. She kept going on and on about charity work and helping the community and, get this, integrating younger people into our already full board of directors."

Imagining someone proposing such ideas to his father makes Tobias shake his head. Tori hadn't stood a chance going in there. "Of course, I shut her down and set her straight. She didn't appreciate that very much, I'm sure. But I told her, this is your father's life's work. You can't just throw it all away on some dumb charity!" It's at times like this that Tobias is reminded of how despicable a person his father can be. "We talked a few more times after that. Of course, the only reason I cared was because I had known Wu's father for decades. I also knew the power his company has. I didn't really care to partner with such an imbecile, but it was an opportunity I just couldn't pass up."

All of that time, all of that effort…he'd wasted hours upon hours on those damn notes, and for what? A business meeting that had been doomed from the beginning? And his father had known it? What a waste.

"Oh, don't give me that look," he says as he straightens his tie. "It was a test and you passed. You ought to be glad."

Glad to be jerked around by his father and set up to fail? He must be kidding.

"I don't know how you did it, exactly, but you did Eaton Industries proud."

Feeling betrayed and annoyed over the lie is completely forgotten as he takes in his father's words. Proud. To do the company proud was to make his father proud, something he'd never accomplished before. For years he thought he was past the point of wanting that from his father. It was why he had stopped trying in school, stopped keeping his room clean, even stopped wearing suits when he visited the office on weekends with his father. Trying to make someone like Marcus proud was a lost cause. So he did whatever the hell he wanted and received the same reward he always had: a good beating.

Hearing the words he has craved all of his life causes his throat to constrict and he just nods, hoping it'll go away. Proud.

"You proved you're not entirely useless, Tobias." Not quite as encouraging, but he'll overlook it. "I want to promote you." Marcus sighs as he attempts to find a place for his cup in the sink. "I know you technically have been promoted as much as you can be in your current position, but I want to utilize you. Now is your chance to really be important to this company."

Well shit, it seems everyone wants to hire him these days. "Thank you," he says quietly, because he knows that's what his father is waiting for.

Marcus nods, taking one last look around the apartment. "Get this fucking mess cleaned up." He pats him on the shoulder once and Tobias swears he can see a glimmer of pride in his eye. It makes him stand a little taller even though he is still wearing his pyjamas. "See you at the office," he comments before showing himself out.

Will the madness never end? He can't help but shake his head as the memory of his father's praise mingles with the image of the partnership agreement that sits on the island behind him, thankfully facing down. He looks up and finds himself staring into the living room, which serves to remind him of the only thing he can really bring himself to care about currently.

Jobs and proud fathers mean very little to him as the one thought that has dogged him most of his life echoes in his head.

He has no one to share it with.


	28. Nowhere In Sight

**Hello all! I don't have time to write much of a note, but I hope you all had a wonderful weekend! As always, thanks to my editor and all she does. Let me know what you guys think of this chapter **

**Expect another update hopefully on Thursday. Have a good week!**

Everything that has happened leaves Tobias a nervous wreck. His mind won't stop turning no matter what he does. He lies in bed and ponders the offer his dad made. He gets up at four in the morning and flips through the partnership agreement Tori gave him. It's all extremely overwhelming. There was a time in his life when he felt that he had no options whatsoever. His choices were made for him and he dared not deviate. Now, he has what feels like a whole host of options. Suddenly, he doesn't regret having never experienced this before. Choices can be stressful things.

If he is entirely honest, work is not the only thing on his mind. It weighs heavily and demands a fair bit of attention, but really it's a distraction from his actual concern. His thoughts turn often to Tris and how she is faring on the streets, whether she is warm enough, or if she will find herself in a stranger's bed for the night. Sometimes he tries being angry at her. Angry for leaving and breaking his heart, and angry for the complete disregard she'd had after everything he'd done for her. In the end, all he can ever feel towards her is honest to God worry.

He thinks of her lungs, barely recovered from infection, and the sort of men who could take advantage of her. He thinks of her poor freezing fingers and her surely empty belly. Even now it's his instinct to want to help her. Knowing the conditions she's likely living under fills him with dread. At the very least he wishes he could bring her coffee again. Or even just let her know that he still cares.

Driving to and from work is a hard adjustment. Especially when his father claps him on the back and makes a comment about how he's glad Tobias is finally showing the maturity and goddamned common sense to drive himself. That only makes him eager to walk home from work on Thursday night. He knows better, though. He knows how low his willpower is and how he'll just have his heart broken that much further. Already he's tried driving by her old spot. It was too hard to tell from that distance. So he sticks with his earlier resolution and drives himself home yet again.

He does become stir crazy and allows himself an early run on Friday morning, before the sun has risen and a light sprinkle falls from the sky. He's exhausted, but the cold temperature leaves him feeling exhilarated. He runs one mile and then a second, by the time he hits his eleventh his muscles begin to protest and he decreases his pace.

Subconsciously, he ends up in the same spot he's been trying to keep himself away from this whole week, but eventually he must have run out of streets to choose from and now he's slowing his pace even further. Suddenly, his heart is beating so fast it feels as though it might burst out of his chest if he doesn't find some way to slow it. Obviously, walking is the best solution.

His feet stop altogether as he stares, squinting in the relentless dark in hopes of seeing something. He sees one huddled figure, but as headlights flash over the figure Tobias sees that he has a beard. Obviously, not Tris.

Aside from that, nothing. She's nowhere in sight. Her goodbye really had been the end then. He would probably never see her again. That realisation alone hits him square in the chest. It feels like someone has knocked the wind right out of him. Their last goodbye had been filled with angry words and harsh stares. Her last vision of him had been his back turned away from her as she'd tried to make some form of peace with him. Once again, he'd managed to fuck up.

He can't find it in himself to run any further, the ache of his muscles now apparent as he begins walking home. Nothing can distract his mind from Tris now. She's a roadblock in both his thoughts and his feelings.

Maybe she likes this life she's living, he thinks. Perhaps this is just her way of life. She might have even done this before. Stayed with someone, made friends, and then took off for her next adventure. No job and no home, nothing to call her own but the clothes on her back. In the sociology course he'd taken in high school, they'd watched a video on the homeless. It's a culture all of its own, apparently. Sometimes homeless people will seek help if they need it, but some actually choose to remain as they are.

If Tris has chosen this life, then who is he to argue with her? From what he had gathered, she'd dealt with some shit in her past. Maybe this life of wandering was comforting. Just as he needed to toe his shoes perfectly into place each night, it was possible she needed to never settle into any place at all.

All of the rationalizing he does on his way home manages to keep his worry at bay for a few brief moments. The sting of rejection, however, flashes in his face again.

As always, when he returns to his apartment now he feels the utter emptiness of it. The cleanliness of the living room is something he takes pride in, though. After his father had departed on Thursday leaving him with the words "proud" and "promotion" rolling around in his brain, he had cleaned. The exchange had convinced him that he didn't need her. He was going to excel in so many different areas and become someone all on his own. He didn't need to hand out coats and worry about bettering himself as a person. He had potential for fuck's sake, and it was about time he embraced it. At least that's the speech he gave himself as he cleaned everything, wiping her fingerprints off the glass on the coffee table and throwing out the blanket she slept with every night.

Afterward, he had lain on the couch and thoroughly missed her for twenty minutes.

When he arrives at work this morning he makes up his mind to invite Christina out to do something, and maybe Will, too. Any sort of plans will work for him, even if he totally third-wheels this time around. He just needs to do _something._ Something that isn't pacing or cleaning dishes or running his hands through his hair. He's certain he will be bald in a few months if he keeps that habit up.

He knocks on Christina's office door and immediately cracks it open and peers in. She's clearly in the middle of an important phone call as she argues with the person on the other end. Saying things like, "That just won't work," and "Surely you can do better. You won't want to miss this."

Tobias just takes a seat across from her and picks up a piece of chocolate from the box in front of him and eats it. He admires the flowers on her desk, roses with baby's breath in them. They stand in a pink vase and the card is still sitting in them. He doesn't have to look at it to know that it's from Will. Figures, he'd be the type of boyfriend to randomly send her flowers.

Finally she hangs up and shoots him a glare as he stuffs another chocolate in his mouth. He smiles cheekily at her as he devours the whole thing in one bite. "Paws off my candy, Eaton."

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. "No need to get food aggressive." She laughs but makes a point to take the box of chocolates off of her desk anyway.

"I just got off the phone with the local news outlet," she says and shakes her head, clearly annoyed. "They want to just send a journalist and photographer out here, but I told them no. This is too good for just some damned newspaper article."

It isn't exactly high entertainment, not to Tobias at least. So he doesn't really blame them for not sending out cameras, but he's glad for Christina's insistence anyway. Surely this project would not just benefit the company by being seen, but the community as a whole. Showing the homeless in a different light and all.

"So I know you didn't come to hear me talk about the press. What's up?"

"Who says I didn't just come for the chocolate?" She shoots him another glare and he chuckles to himself. "Kidding. It's been a really shitty week. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go get drinks or something tonight? Will can come, too, if he wants." It's a bit weird, going out with a girl and her boyfriend, but he likes Will and it isn't like he has any other friends to choose from.

Christina's face softens immediately and she reaches across the desk to pat his hand. "Oh, honey, don't you know what day it is?"

At first he just draws a blank, wondering if perhaps it's her birthday or their anniversary. From her reaction he wonders if it's the anniversary of some really awful event. He comes up blank.

"Tobias, it's Valentine's Day," she tells him with a small smile.

Suddenly the roses and the box of chocolates and good lord, was that a teddy bear behind her? It all makes sense. "Oh," he says. It doesn't really bother him. He's never been big on holidays, especially not one as dumb and useless as Valentine's Day. Sure, he's had girlfriends on this day before. He did all the expected things. Chocolates and flowers and dinner. And sex, that was what the guys got out of it, after all. But when he was alone the day didn't bother him in the slightest. It was just like every other day. Just with more hearts and sparkly things.

But Christina looks so damned guilty he almost feels second-hand sadness. "You know what, it's no big deal. Will won't mind if we skip whatever he has planned."

"Don't you dare," Tobias warns with a shake of his head. "Seriously, go enjoy whatever your extremely corny boyfriend has planned for you tonight. We can all go out another time."

She looks at him like he's a pathetic puppy dog in need of a warm home. It's emasculating, really. "I'm not upset, I swear." He tries to reassure her but she just seems to contemplate more.

"Tomorrow?" she offers, her eyes still wide and sad.

Tobias nods, offering her a tight smile. He is officially a pity case. Fabulous. "Tomorrow."

Marcus Eaton makes good on his promise. Starting Friday morning, a full twenty-four hours after making his proposition, he starts throwing projects at Tobias to work on. He hands him a folder full of information and has him lead a meeting on the material in the same day. He has him take conference calls in his place with other big-wigs. He even mentions sending Tobias off to some advertising meeting to make a few decisions.

It's mind boggling. In the last two and a half years of working here, Tobias had hardly even participated in a meeting. He was nothing but a shadow. There, but never acknowledged. So this sudden 180 turn sends his mind spinning. The workload isn't really an issue; after all, he's eager to have something to fill his time. Still, how does someone who literally doubted every word out of Tobias's mouth suddenly have enough confidence to throw him into all of this? Tobias certainly doesn't have enough confidence to feel like he should be doing any of it!

But he does what he's been doing for most of his life. He fakes it.

Honestly, this nonsense can be exhausting, especially when you don't really know what's going on.

By the time the sun sets and the workday ends, Tobias is grateful Christina turned him down for drinks tonight. He's too worn out to go anywhere at this point. After all, he's been up since four in the morning and has hardly stopped since. For the first time all week, he feels certain that he'll fall asleep almost as soon as he gets home.

He does stop at the drive thru on his way back to his apartment. He quickly adjusted back to his old eating habits now that there is no one making dinner at home. Nor is there anyone for him to make dinner for.

The fries are gone by the time he makes it home and he juggles carrying the takeout bag with his briefcase and the papers that have been carelessly thrown along the passenger seat of his car. He barely makes it into the elevator without spilling everything around him and crashes loudly into his apartment, not bothering to kick his shoes off before he dumps everything onto the sofa, except for the takeout bag that still contains his quarter pounder with bacon.

For the last week he hasn't sat to eat at the island or in the dining room. He either stands in the kitchen, eats on the couch, or doesn't bother eating at all. With his couch covered in work shit he settles for taking giant bites as he kicks off his shoes - and carefully sets them into place, of course - and removes his coat. No need to be formal or neat when you're all alone.

As a last ditch attempt to ward off the silence he switches on the television. It being Valentine's Day and all, apparently the only sort of programming on the airwaves is sappy romance movies. He shuts the set off when he happens upon Pretty Woman.

In his bedroom he taps the space key of his computer and it flashes to life, having just been in sleep mode for all these days. He intends to put on music but sees that the last thing that was pulled up was a song from The Offspring. He just shuts the damn thing off after closing out the window.

How depressing, he thinks. For a moment he thinks of going out, finding his way into a bar or a club. He could easily find someone to take his mind off of things. Perhaps even the burn of alcohol could work the wonders he needed right now. Anything to let him slip into oblivion. It's tempting, as he thinks of pretty girls in short skirts, their hot breath on his skin and their delicate lips in all the right places. The more he thinks about it, though, the more it turns his stomach.

Poor Tobias with his poor broken heart. He feels like a damned sissy.

Even so, it doesn't stop him from forgetting completely about the clutter he's dumped in the living room or the fact that he's tossed his burger wrapper on the floor. But he just pulls off his clothes, leaving nothing on but his boxers, and falls into bed, lying face down on top of the covers.

It feels like he's only just dozed off when the ringing starts. A quick glance at his clock shows that it's nearly three in the morning.

The ringing phone might have more of an impact if he actually gave a fuck. Unfortunately for the caller, he ran out of those to give a very long time ago. He curls on his side, pulling the comforter out from underneath of himself to lie under as the temperature seems to have dropped.

After a few more seconds it thankfully stops. Tobias is just about to fall back to sleep when it starts up again. It's loud and persistent and he feels like it's screaming at him.

Again he wants nothing more than to just ignore it, but a voice in his mind tells him it is important that he answer it.

He runs his hand over his face as he gets out of bed, stumbling out into the main living area as he looks blindly around for his phone. It's his landline that's going off, which is unusual. The only phone calls he generally gets on that are from Marcus and telemarketers. He swears to God if this is someone from India selling heated toilet seats again…

After much rummaging about, surely wrinkling more papers in his search on the couch, he finds it. Of course, the damn thing cuts off its ringing as soon as he has it in his hand. In a moment of petty frustration he nearly throws it against the wall. At the last moment he remembers that he's a grown ass adult and throwing things in the midst of anger is essentially a tantrum. He tosses it lightly back on the couch and turns to walk away, back to bed.

Halfway down the hall the damn thing starts up for the third time. He heaves a sigh and turns back around, not rushing but clearly attempting to make sure he gets to it in time. "Hello," he finally answers as he presses the talk button, grateful that the obnoxious noise is finally cut off. No doubt the caller can hear his irritated tone and the heaviness in his voice that comes along with having been woken up.

There's no response on the end of the line. "Listen, it's a little late here in America to be making sales calls so why don't you try back at 13 o' clock, alright buddy?" He feels a bit like a jerk but then he remembers that they woke him up not by calling once or twice, but three times. Were they even supposed to call that many times?

Just as his thumb has found the end call button he hears a voice on the other end. It is not the heavily accented apology that he expects to hear, but a female voice. He recognises it instantly. As he does, he hears the tears in her voice and the desperation in the one word she utters. "Tobias."

Tris.


	29. The Drive

**Hello! I am sorry for such a late update, but it's still Thursday somewhere in the world, right? I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for all of your reviews last chapter! It was such a great response and so wonderful to see just how many of you really are invested in this story. I do hope you only continue to enjoy where this goes **

**As always, thank you for my wonderful editor BK2U for her constant dedication with this fic and all of the time she puts into it. Another busy weekend ahead of me but I do intend to try and make sure to update again by Monday. Have a lovely weekend everyone!**

The stifled sob on the other end of the line finally snaps him back to the present. Tobias's mind is moving too swiftly for him to comprehend each thought as it passes. He wonders about everything, from how she got his number to why she was on the other end crying. His heart hurts as she hiccups through a sob. "Tris?" he asks urgently. "Tris, are you okay?"

All thoughts of sleep vanish from his mind as he holds the phone closely to his ear and begins to pace. His free hand runs through his hair as he walks back and forth from the start of the island to the wall of his living room. Island to wall, island to wall.

"I think I need you to come get me," she says quietly on the other end of the line, her voice choked.

Even after all of the hurt she has put him through and the anger he has felt towards her, these are the only words necessary to make him jump into action. "I'm already on my way," he promises whilst he rushes to find pants to pull on and slips a shirt over his head quickly, not caring if anything is inside out or backwards. "Where are you?"

She doesn't reply at first and the silence sends chills through his body. "I'm in a McDonald's," she answers shakily. He breathes a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice and begins pulling on his socks.

"The one on McClurg or East Garfield?" he questions as he darts back out of his room to throw on his coat and shove his feet into his sneakers.

His instinct is to dart out the door and into the elevator to try and get to her as quickly as possible, but of course the damned landline holds him frozen in the doorway. "I can be there in no time, just tell me where you are," he pleads as she cries. "I'm in Columbus," she finally says in a near-whisper.

"What?" he asks incredulously. He'd seen the signs for Columbus on the highway before. "As in Columbus, Indiana?" Again he feels the familiar panic.

"Yes," she says quietly, and he wants nothing more than to ask her how the hell she made it to a completely different state. He holds his tongue.

However, he does sigh as he turns back to his room in order to snatch his phone off his bedside table. He is going to need GPS to find her. "Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'm so sorry," she says, and he can envision her biting her lip and looking down at the ground as she speaks. "I didn't know who else to call." The utter defeat in her voice stirs something in him.

"You can always call me, Tris," he promises her. "I'm on my way, but write down my cell phone number so you can get a hold of me if you need to." He relays the number to her as he grabs some of her things from the trash bag he'd stuffed in the closet. Thank God he hadn't thrown everything out in his despair.

"I'm in the McDonald's on 3rd street," she adds. He longs to be magically transported there, to just fix whatever has broken her and bring her home where she belongs, this time for good. At the end of this he fervently hopes that she won't just turn him away again.

He snags his keys off of the coffee table and buttons his coat securely. "You stay there and call if you need anything, okay?" he asks, trying to reinforce the importance of it to her. He doesn't know whose phone she is using but he is very much aware that once they hang up he will likely not be speaking to her for a few hours.

She acknowledges his instructions without argument and he thanks her, relief coursing through him. "See you when you get here," she says quietly.

"Yeah," he agrees. "And Tris?" She makes a small "hmm" sound on the other end and he smiles softly. It has finally registered through the chaos of these moments that this is her voice once again. "It's going to be okay."

With that he hangs up the phone and darts out to his car, desperate to get to her as quickly as possible.

It takes a few tries to get his phone to locate the correct McDonald's in Columbus. Once his GPS is programmed and spitting out instructions he throws the car into drive and makes his way out of the parking garage and out onto the street.

The glowing clock on the dashboard tells him that it is four in the morning. Never has he been so grateful for the absence of traffic than he is now as he navigates the empty streets, barely having to stop at all as he makes his way to the highway. He merges onto I-90 and quickly increases his speed, unconcerned about cops or speeding tickets. His GPS indicates that it will take him nearly four hours to get to Tris. He intends to decrease that number.

The music from the radio makes him restless so he sits in silence most of the way, his thoughts consumed by Tris. He worries about what could have happened to her and then he worries about what will happen between the two of them once they're reunited. It's selfish, but he can't shake the thought of what it will do to him if he drives all this way and rescues her from whatever problem she is having only to have her turn away from him again. It might actually destroy him once and for all.

Eventually he forces himself to stop thinking about it. All those thoughts can do is make him even crazier than he already is. He glances down at his phone periodically, confirming that he hasn't managed to miss a call from Tris. Late night gives way to early morning as the sky changes from black to navy blue with a stripe of gold on the horizon. He focuses on the morning sky instead of Tris for as long as he can.

The gentle rocking of the car does little to calm his nerves. At least his anxiety is helping to keep him from falling asleep as he drives. As time passes, traffic grows heavier. He reluctantly slows down and is pleased to see he only has a bit longer to go on the monotonous highway.

At first he tries to keep his speed up by weaving in and out of traffic but ultimately decides to abandon that tactic when a truck almost merges into him. It really won't do Tris any good if he's dead.

His thoughts continue to drift to Tris and what could have happened to her, certain it must be something just terrible. She wouldn't have called him unless she was desperate. Their last separation solidifies that belief in his mind. He cycles through possible causes, including injuries and illness and the police. He considers her bout of pneumonia just a few weeks ago and the distance she has travelled. No way did she walk this far in just a week. But if she had somehow managed it…perhaps she had injured her foot. Then he thinks of the unspeakable things, of the awful troubles she could have gotten herself into. He goes back to watching the sky.

When at last he reaches exit 68 the sun has fully risen. He follows the twists and turns ordered by the GPS until finally, thankfully, he pulls up to a McDonald's. The resplendent golden arches have never been such a welcome sight to see.

Due to the early hour the drive thru is backed up with the breakfast rush. The parking lot is spacious but busy with the other drivers who have made their way here from the highway. He parks his car in the first available space and messes with his hair in the rear view mirror for a moment before he climbs out onto stiff legs.

Taking a deep breath of the icy cold air, he makes his way to the front door and opens it wide.

At first he sees nothing but a mob of people waiting in line for their morning coffee. The scent of fake sausage and old French fries assaults his nose. He scans the restaurant desperately but with no results. His heart sinks when he doesn't see her. A second glance, however, reveals a foot poking out past a divider, clad in the now dirty black and white Converse sneakers that he recalls buying with Tris only a few weeks ago.

The smile of relief that spreads across his face is involuntary.

Once he rounds the corner and sees her it vanishes.

"Hey," she says quietly as he fights the urge to vomit. Her face is bloodied and bruised. One of her eyes is nearly swollen shut and coloured a deep purple that spreads down to her cheek. She sits with her back to the wall and draws her knees up to her chest in the booth. Tobias can see the dried blood under her nose and notes that it is on her hands and clothes, too. She's dirty, still clad in the same clothes she was wearing when she left, and her hair looks like it has suffered right along with the rest of her.

"Oh, Tris," he murmurs softly, not even trying to hide the sadness in his voice. Tears sting his eyes, but he blinks them away before they can make an appearance.

She bites her lip before she looks up at him. "I'm so sorry," she says as she stares straight into his eyes, trying to impress upon him just how apologetic she is from that look alone. "I just didn't know what else to do and I didn't have enough for the bus and I was scared…I'm sorry," she finishes, hanging her head.

In all the time he has known her, Tobias has never once seen her show fear. To hear her admit it now makes him realize the gravity of the situation that much more.

"Don't apologise," he says gently as he watches her for a moment more before extending his hand to help her out. "Come on, let's go home."

She doesn't even hesitate as she reaches out for him, though she does wince. Her hand grips his tightly and Tobias clasps hers with as much strength as he can, grateful to be near her again.

She flinches as soon as she's on her feet and Tobias worries about what the extent of her injuries might be. "Put your arm around my shoulder," he instructs, as he stoops over a significant amount to allow her to snake her short arm around him.

Together they slowly start to make their way out of the restaurant. Tobias can feel everyone's eyes on them and does his best to ignore it. Surely they had all sorts of questions. He even sees two cops standing and eating their hash browns who give a glance their way but don't say anything. It dawns on him just how many people in this world are cowards. Too timid to even offer to help a broken and battered girl. For all they knew, he was carrying her off to inflict more torture. And no one even bothers to say a word.

When they reach his car, he unlocks it and brings her to the passenger side, carefully helping her get in and buckled before going around and settling himself in the driver's seat.

He starts the still-warm engine and blasts high heat through the vents in an effort to combat the cold and decrease their shivering. Tobias wonders if he will ever stop shivering. Every time he looks over at Tris another chill runs through his body.

Neither of them speaks as he backs out of the parking spot then swings back onto the road, making his way toward I-65 North.

As they sit at a red light, Tris leans forward and turns on the radio, quickly switching the station from unrelenting static to some sort of rock song. She doesn't sing along like she did the night they danced in his bedroom. She just stares out the window and avoids his gaze.

Once they pull onto the highway there's a sea of bright red brake lights. Figures that now would be when he hits peak traffic.

For a long while they both sit in silence. The music hovers in the space between them, filling the gaping holes where there should be words. Tris fidgets and then winces. Tobias sighs with impatience. Suddenly the car seems much smaller and he can feel the atmosphere becoming claustrophobic. The weight of his unspoken questions lies heavily, threatening to crush him.

Twenty minutes later he can stand it no more, and he reaches over and switches off the music. Tris just looks over at him, but doesn't protest. "What happened?" he finally asks. He'd been worried he would sound too harsh. Instead he sounds like he's nearly begging her to answer.

Tris doesn't speak at first. He watches her twist the end of her sleeves in her fingers over and over from the corner of his eye. "You owe me an explanation." He doesn't like holding that over her head. At no time had he ever wanted her to feel like she owed him anything. Kindness was what he had always tried to exhibit with her. But at this point, after all she had done to him and what had lead him here today, he firmly believes that he deserves at least this one small thing from her.

She clears her throat before beginning. "After I left your place on Saturday morning I didn't really know where to go." Tobias fights the urge to demand why she had left in the first place, deciding to hold his tongue and let her get this out first. "At first I went back to my old spot and tried to settle in there. I couldn't relax, though. It didn't feel right anymore. So I started to wander the city, trying to kill some time and organise my thoughts."

While he had lain crippled in bed, distraught over her sudden exit, she had seemingly only left for a change of scenery. Tobias is struggling to wrap his head around her reasoning.

"Well, the more I kept going the more I regretted what happened between us," she pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth. "I wanted to just go back and apologise and make everything better."

Oh, how he wished she would have. "Why didn't you?" his voice is sad as he asks. All his misery could have been so easily avoided that day.

"Not right now, Tobias. We'll address that later," she replies wearily. "Anyway, I knew I couldn't go back." Tris holds up her hand before he can ask the next question that is already on the tip of his tongue. "I started walking, hoping that if I put enough distance between us there wouldn't be any temptation left." She sounded like she was trying to avoid chocolate cake instead of abandoning quite possibly the only person who actually cared about her. "I just kept walking and eventually stopped at a gas station probably fifteen miles away. I asked this guy for a ride and he drove me to Lafayette."

The picture painted itself. Tris, worn and dirty, but still managing to make herself plenty attractive. The way she could bat her eyelashes and smile sweetly, there was no doubt she could convince this guy to give her a ride. The thought sends another stab of fear through him. Clearly his fears for her had been prescient, considering her current state.

"Well, after that I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to stop there. Lafayette isn't exactly the sort of place where the homeless can thrive very well." Tobias knew what she meant. It was in the big cities where they could fare the best. In the city there are constantly people around to offer food and money and help. But there were also many homeless and the police wouldn't bother you unless you bothered them. It made for a safer space. "But I kept getting these weird vibes from these men in the rest stop. I got out of there as fast as I could and hung out in the area over the next few days."

He knows it isn't hard for someone to take advantage of a young woman on her own. He worries where this is going and it does nothing to calm his nerves when she speaks again.

"I thought about…making some money," she says, looking away with shame as she speaks. "But I couldn't bring myself to do it." Hanging her head, she sighs. "I probably would have been better off."

Tobias waits, eager to hear the rest of her story. "And then?" he prompts, taking his eyes off of the road to look directly at her. She meets his gaze and he is once again reminded of what she has endured.

Tris sighs again, letting the air out of her lungs slowly. "Two men approached me." Her words only increase the tension in the car. "I should have known right then. I think I did, really. I mean, people don't just offer to help someone like me," she says quietly before looking up and staring straight at Tobias. Although he keeps his eyes focused on the road he can feel her stare. "Well, except for one."

Except for him. But it doesn't feel like he has really helped her at all. In fact, he's almost convinced that he only managed to make everything worse. Were it not for him, she never would have left Chicago. She would still be on her street corner along with the bearded man who huddled a few yards away and the bird man who sat across the street from her. They knew her, probably even watched over her. Tobias could have helped her from a distance, offering coffee and food and maybe even cash. He'd gone too far and just wrecked her that much more. "I'm sorry," he chokes out without really meaning to.

Tris doesn't understand the implication of his words. Surely she would comment on it if she did. Instead, she rests her hand on his forearm, causing him to look over at her. When he meets her eyes she does her best to smile at him despite her swollen face. "Anyway, I was hungry at this point, and desperate. I couldn't imagine any more time spent in that stupid city. The idea of a warm truck cab and maybe being able to scrounge some gas station food from them was more than enough temptation to get me to stay yes."

Cold, hungry, alone; all of his worst fears confirmed. He knew what it would be like out there for her. "It started out okay, they just said they were driving home to Kentucky. We talked about nothing important for a few hours and I really thought everything would be fine. It wasn't," she admits with a shake of her head. "The two of them started arguing with each other and I tried to stay out of it but they kept asking my opinion. I-I tried to stay neutral but that just made them angrier. They were shouting about the stupidest things and next thing I knew we were on the side of the road."

When he glances over at her again she's shaking from head to toe even though the car is now a sauna from the still-blasting heat. Tobias reaches over and rests his hand gently on her knee for a few moments, trying to offer her some comfort.

"Long story short, it didn't take long for them to stop arguing. I didn't even know where we were. It was late and dark and there weren't any streetlights, just headlights. It was a big field and I was convinced they were going to just kill me." It isn't like you never hear these kinds of stories. Homeless girls and sometimes men, too, looking to someone for help only to be taken advantage of, hurt, or killed. Who was left to care about them anyway? The injustices done to them largely go unnoticed. "That probably would have been better."

Her voice is like ice cutting right through him. "What did they…" he pauses before he finishes his question. He's not sure if he really wants the answer or not. It doesn't take a genius to guess what they did.

Tris shrugs, "Exactly what you'd expect. Beat me…raped me, left me there to die." She speaks without emotion. When he glances over at her she's staring straight ahead through the windshield, unyielding in her gaze.

Tobias shakes with anger, wishing he could turn around and find the monsters. He wants nothing more than to inflict the same pain on them that they had forced her to suffer. His violent tendencies are usually well-suppressed; he hates this side of himself that announces its existence every so often. But right now he can't help the rage coursing through him as his hands clench tightly on the steering wheel.

"The only reason they stopped was because a car started slowing on the road alongside the field and they got scared. They took off and left me there."

Tobias swallows the bile that rises in his throat. "Fucking assholes," he mutters to himself, practically shaking with the anger that has built inside him.

She doesn't respond at first, but he can still feel the emotions that roll off of her. "I didn't know where else to go and everything hurt…that McDonald's was the closest place I found." He hates this story. He hates every turn it has taken and every word that comprises it. He even resents Tris for telling it to him.

As she continues to stare stoically out the window he feels his own emotions intensifying . He's half-tempted to pull the car over and cry. Cry for Tris and what happened to her, and cry for himself and the ways this further fucks with him. "I'm sorry," she says after another minute. "I had no one else to call and I didn't know what else to do…I'm so sorry." Tris finally looks over at him and he can see the tears shining in her eyes, the apology that hovers on her lips, the regret written all over her face.

"Tris, you can always call me," he tells her in a low voice, meeting her gaze for a moment. "I'm here for you."

She shakes her head, looking away. "It was my own damn fault," she tells him and then she buries her face in her hands. At first he hears nothing and assumes she's collecting herself. After another minute a broken sob destroys the silence. Her sobbing continues, tearing at Tobias' heart.

It doesn't take more than a few seconds for him to switch his hazard lights on and change lanes, making his way over to the shoulder of the highway. He throws the car into park and leaves the hazards on, their annoying clicking an oddly comforting rhythm.

"Tris," he says softly, reaching out a hand to carefully touch her shoulder. He'd read somewhere that someone who had experienced a traumatic event shouldn't be touched. Somehow, he feels like that's bullshit that needs to be disregarded in the current situation. "It's okay," he whispers to her. Tris falls into him, allowing his arms to wrap around her upper body, holding her as close as the space between their seats will allow.

They remain entwined as he shushes her and lightly smoothes her tangled hair. He doesn't care about the dried blood or caked on dirt; her bedraggled physical state makes no difference in the compassion he feels for her. Ensconced in his arms, she shakes and sobs and buries her face in his chest for a long time. "It's okay now," he tells her again as he rubs his hand up and down her back. Tobias remembers the way his mother used to rub his back when he cried like this. It's the best way he knows to comfort someone. "I'm sorry, Tris. I'm just so fucking sorry."

She shakes her head against him wordlessly.

Eventually his arm begins to feel slightly numb and he can only assume Tris's muscles have begun to protest as well. They disentangle themselves and she wipes the sleeve of her coat under her eyes and nose to wipe away the residue from her tears. The flinch she gives as she wipes at her face does not go unnoticed.

"Come on," he sighs, putting the car back into drive and turning off his hazards. "Let's go home," he says as he looks over his shoulder and eases back into traffic.

It's another thirty minutes of silence before either one of them dares to make another move.

Finally, Tris reaches out and takes the hand that he has been running through his hair every few minutes, clenching it tightly in her own hand like a lifeline. He shoots her a quick glance, then rubs his thumb over her hand soothingly.

"Don't forget," she says after a long while, when the road has become one big blur and his hand has started doing that awkward sweating thing from the continued contact.

"Hm?" he questions. Has he missed something she was saying?

When he looks her way again he notices the ghost of a smile beginning to form on her lips. "We still need to go to the grocery store."


	30. The Gap

**Hello everyone! I know, it's late, but once again work got in the way of me posting in a more prompt manner. Sorry about that. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'll try and respond to some reviews now and maybe a few in the morning if I'm able. **

**Also, I wanted to make sure all of you were aware that the rating on this will be changing to M within the next day or so. I only just realised that it was still T. With issues like prostitution, rape, and other such matters being discussed though, I feel like an M rating is more appropriate. For all of my guest readers though I wanted to make sure you were aware you would have to go under the M rated fics now in order to find it!**

**Aside from that, my usual thanks to all of you who review and read and of course a big thank you to BK2U. Expect another update either Thursday or Friday. I'm aiming for Thursday but one of the kids is home sick from school and I'm so behind with Christmas stuff. If someone wants to come wrap for me I promise to get the chapter out early lol! As always, let me know your thoughts. Have a wonderful week!**

The silence offers no comfort as they continue their drive home. Tobias still has a million questions to ask but refrains from doing so, hoping that perhaps Tris will be able to doze off. Her eyes remain wide and focused as she stares out the window.

The only thing that occasionally breaks the quiet is the rumbling of her stomach. She doesn't say anything about it, but Tobias recalls his completely bare kitchen and pulls into the nearest drive-thru. "Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?" the bored male voice asks as he opens his window. He places his own order and then looks over to Tris who bites her lip in contemplation. "Can I have a quarter pounder?" she asks. "No pickles."

He collects their food and pulls into a parking spot, pulling her sandwich out of the bag and handing it to her. She grabs it and before he's even managed to locate his own food has already taken three heaping bites. Were it any other time he would ask her, "Hungry?" with a quirked eyebrow and a slight smile. But he knows how hungry she must be, probably starving in fact. So when she finishes just as he takes his second bite he backs the car out of its space and drives through again, ordering two more without making her ask.

The small smile she is able to give him as he hands them over somehow makes everything worth it.

She paces herself a bit better the second time around, and when he finishes his she's only halfway through. He pulls back out onto the road with a sudden desperation to get home.

The streets of Chicago are far more crowded at one in the afternoon than they had been at four in the morning. They sit through stoplights multiple times and Tobias fends off the dozen or so people who attempt to cut him off. Neither of them turns the radio back on, nor do they talk. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Tris reach into the bag and pull out one of his fries. He tilts the bag in her direction to let her know she is welcome to them.

Somehow the darkness of his parking garage is welcome, finally extricating them from the bright lights and mobs of people and traffic. The stillness down here offers an enormous sense of relief.

At first they don't make any effort to get out. He just relaxes his head against the headrest and closes his eyes, prying them open a moment later to see Tris eating another one of his fries. She offers him a sheepish smile and he grins back. "C'mon," he says with a tired sigh. "Let's go inside."

He grabs the bags and her spare clothes he'd brought and steps outside, allowing the cold air to sting his cheeks. He takes in a breath of fresh air, and a sweet sort of chill runs through him. After a moment or two he walks around to Tris's side of the car and opens the door. "I'll help you inside," he says, remembering the earlier difficulty she had walking to his car.

Still she doesn't move, her seat belt still strapping her in. After a minute she does crane her neck and look in the rear view mirror, appraising herself. Her hand moves to the bruised portion of her face, touching it gently as she tries to open her swollen eye. She winces and pulls her hand away quickly.

When she looks back up at him she tries again to smile, but fails. Tobias helps her to get out of the car and wraps her arm around his shoulders again. They stagger along like that for a few steps before Tobias hands her the stuff he is carrying and scoops her up, one strong arm under her knees and the other along her back. She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder.

He pretends not to notice her silent tears as he carries her, but his heart aches for her.

In the lobby, he ignores the look they get from the lady with her yapping dog on a sparkly pink leash and makes his way straight to the elevator. Praying, for Tris's sake, that it's empty.

The whole ride up Tris doesn't move an inch, just remains firmly in his arms. He wonders idly if they stood here long enough whether she would fall asleep. The lack of effort it requires to carry her doesn't go unnoticed. He's a strong guy, yeah, but it should at least take some effort to lift another human being. He wonders if she even manages to weigh 100 pounds dripping wet.

Finally they arrive at his front door and he somehow manages to hold her and turn the key in the lock at the same time. He kicks his shoes off as soon as he's inside, flipping on the light as he attempts to toe them into place.

He sets her down gently on the couch and then removes his coat, choosing not to comment on the wet streaks that have cut through the dirt on her face. He hangs his coat in the closet, replacing the items he had grabbed from her trash bag of belongings. As before, he's grateful that he had been unable to throw them out.

"Tris," he says sadly as he looks over at her, shutting the door behind him.

She just shakes her head at him and pulls her own shoes off, tossing them on the floor. "I just need a shower," she tells him in an insistent tone.

He realized long ago that there is no use in arguing, not when it came to matters such as this. Pick your battles, isn't that what they always say? "I'll get you some towels."

The linen closet offers him a brief reprieve there in the shadowed walls of the hallway. His throat is blocked, his chest tight, and his eyes are heavy. He rests his head against the shelf of towels and tries to find some strength from deep within.

Being strong for others whilst falling apart is one of the hardest things a person can do.

He emerges from the hall back into the light of the living room a moment later, holding out a towel and washcloth as if they are a peace offering. "Are you sure you're-"

"I'm fine," she cuts him off before he can say anything more. The effort it takes to get herself off the sofa does not go unnoticed, however. "Just stiff. The warm water will help."

Even though it kills him, he stands back and just nods, allowing her to shuffle to the bathroom herself, face screwed up in pain. "I'll just be a minute," she promises, sparing him one last glance before shutting the door behind her.

He breathes a sigh of relief and falls onto the couch as soon as she's gone. Today has literally taken every last ounce of strength he possesses.

It's not one minute, but nearer sixty when the bathroom door finally opens again.

Tobias lost the ability to sit still midway through her shower, despite his exhaustion, and had pulled her stuff back out from the closet as well as done some cursory cleaning. He was just putting on tea, apparently his go-to comfort drink, when she walks out. He offers her a wide smile, trying to work his way towards a cheery disposition.

He must admit, as he takes her in, she looks much improved now that she's had a chance to clean herself up. The intense swelling on the left side of her face hasn't vanished, unfortunately. But at the very least the blood and dirt are all washed away. Her hair hangs in a wet curtain instead of a tangled mess. And, best of all, she once again stands in his oversized clothes, clearly having helped herself this time around.

"Feel better?" he asks and she shrugs, but then nods. "Good," he says quietly and then gestures to the couch. "Go sit, I'll be right over."

She limps over carefully and takes a seat. He follows shortly behind with a slew of first aid supplies and ice packs. He takes an ice pack, wraps it in a towel, and holds it under her swollen eye, raising her hand to rest over his for a moment before he pulls away, leaving her to hold it up. She does so dutifully. He also takes some antibiotic ointment and dabs it gently into the two inch cut on her forehead, placing a bandage over top and doing the same for the multiple cuts on her arms, including a puncture wound that unnerves him a bit.

Next he reaches out to grab her ankle but then thinks better of it. "Is it alright if I look at your ankle?" he asks for permission before touching it.

Tris consents with a short nod. "I uh, haven't shaved in a while," she admits with an embarrassed tone.

It doesn't take a genius to notice it makes her uncomfortable, so instead of rolling his eyes and waving her concern away he just smiles again and says, "No big deal."

He rests her foot in his lap as she pulls her pant leg up and tries not to grimace at the look of it. It could be far worse, he figures, as he takes in the swelling and purple bruising. Definitely a sprain, as he knows from experience. Even though he attempts gentleness, she still bites her lip when he probes the puffy flesh, placing the next ice pack over the worst of it. "This should help bring down the swelling."

They sit in silence for a while until he pulls the ice pack away some minutes later, examining it again. "Alright, flex your foot." She does as he instructs and he begins to wrap it carefully. "We should talk," he says, finding confidence now that his eyes have something else to focus on aside from her face. Tris doesn't answer but sits quietly, waiting for him to continue. "You need to go to the hospital and get checked out." His voice holds an air of confidence that he doesn't truly feel.

"Absolutely not," she counters back before he has even finished speaking. He chances a glance up at her and sees betrayal in her eyes, as if she can't even believe he would suggest such a horrid thing.

Tobias sighs, staying focused on his work. "Hear me out?" he pleads and although she doesn't openly object she also doesn't appear very willing to listen. "Forget about the cuts and the bruises and stuff, you're tough, you can handle it, whatever." He knows the game she plays. "But…they raped you, Tris. You need to see a doctor for a whole host of things that could happen to you as a result."

It's awkward, of course. Tobias wants little more than to reassure her it's okay and to help her start to move on from this whole ordeal. But before they can move on they have to face this. "No," is the only response he receives, however.

Of course she would be difficult. "Please don't do this," he begs, eyes still on his work. "It can't hurt to get checked out after…what happened. Plus, don't they have pills now? To prevent pregnancy and such?"

She squirms beneath him and he can see her cross her arms. "That's not a concern," is her short reply.

Tobias pauses, caught off guard by her answer. "What do you mean?" he asks, clipping the ace bandage securely against her calf.

"I can't."

"What do you…what does that mean?" he asks, his question left hanging in the silence that follows.

"Well," she answers with an annoyed tone. "In order to get pregnant, a girl has to have a period, right?" She's greeted back with nothing more than his dumbfounded stare and huffs an irritated sigh. "You're really going to make me say it?" He raises his eyebrows as if to say, yes, he very much needs her to explain further. "I don't exactly eat well; sometimes I go without food for days. Not eating means no periods."

"Oh." For whatever reason her words hit him harder than perhaps they should. Just the idea that circumstances which have already stolen so much from this girl - her happiness, her innocence, her future - have also managed to take this from her, too. She isn't able to have kids because she doesn't have enough to eat. It isn't fair. "Will you ever…you know?"

She shrugs, looking away from him, clearly embarrassed by the topic. "How am I supposed to fucking know?" she asks, resorting to her old standby, cursing when defensive. She sighs as she looks back up at him. "Now, can we _please _drop this?"

There's nothing more he wishes he could give to her right now than a simple yes. To be able to forget all of this horribleness and just hold her until everything is better. But he knows better. Comfort will have to wait until her well-being has been verified. "Well, what about diseases? You need to get tested for those."

"No." She shakes her head. "I'm not going." She's not getting angry at him, but she's very firm in her answer. He knows if he pushes much further she will get angry, very much so.

It's just as he's preparing to argue wholeheartedly with her that he hears the water begin to boil over, sizzling as it makes contact with the stove. He'd completely forgotten about the tea and rushes to switch the burner off. When he returns to the living room he finds Tris standing there, her ice pack lying forgotten on the table. "Don't do this," he pleads. "Don't let your tenacity overrule common sense. Not when it comes to your own well-being." He hates the way his voice cracks at the end of his sentence. "Just get yourself checked out."

"I won't." Her protest is loud and clear. She's set in her ways and he knows there's little chance of changing her mind. "I refuse to go." She turns and takes a step away from him, still limping even with the bandage now wrapped tightly around her ankle.

He reaches out and grabs her arm, turning her back to face him. He sees the spark of fear in her eyes and immediately lets go. Still, he perseveres. "Tris, you need to go. Just get it over with and then we won't have to worry about it."

Her head shakes violently and he sees her anger flare. "There's no _we_,_" _she spits out at him, crossing her arms and taking a step back from him. "_We_ didn't get raped. _We_ didn't get left on the side of the road to die. _We_ don't have to deal with the consequences." Tobias looks down, feeling ashamed suddenly. "_I _lived through those things and hundreds more. So don't try and tell me what to do!"

She's shouting at him, and though her voice isn't really that loud, Tobias still flinches. "I'm just trying to look out for you and do what's best for you."

"Well, don't fucking tell me what's best for me!" Her hands move with her words, and suddenly her stance, once defensive, has become defiant and angry. "You can't make me go." Her head shakes again, denying him the right to force her to do anything. "If you do…I'll leave again."

Suddenly, his shame is forgotten. As are his pity and his patience. Now, he's filled with white hot anger. "How _dare _you threaten me with that," he says in a low, angry growl. His tone catches Tris's attention and the shouting, furious girl fades right in front of him. "You can't keep using my feelings for you against me like that!" He points an accusing finger in her face and she recoils as if he's going to hurt her. "How could you even say something like that? After what you put me through this week? Hell, after what you put me through these last twelve hours!?" He can feel the anger vibrating through him at her words. She isn't fighting fair, and she's taking advantage of him. "Don't fight dirty, Tris."

Tris stares down at the hardwood floors, avoiding his eyes completely. He expects her own steely anger in return. He's angry yet on the verge of tears, and his voice spells out his every emotion clearly. Normally, she is fuelled by a cold, dry anger. The kind where she can switch off her feelings and turn away from him with no explanation.

But this time she surprises him when she meets his eyes and says, "I'm sorry," quietly, before her hands begin shaking. "But you can't make me go." Her eyes become unfocused as she shakes her head back and forth, back and forth. "You can't force me. You can't make me."

His anger ebbs quickly, and his instincts lead him to reach out to comfort her. "Tris," he says quietly, as he holds out a hand to her.

But she backs away from him, fear written plainly on her face. "You can't force me," she says over and over again as she backs slowly away from him until she finds herself in his room. She spares him one last look before she swings the door shut behind her.

Realistically, he knows he should give her space. He knows that she needs to rest. He knows the last person she wants to see right now is him. And he knows that the internet has instructed him to allow her to handle this situation in whatever way she chooses. His responsibility is solely to support her. He also knows that the water he boiled has now gone cold and his heart grows heavier with every passing minute.

The sun begins to set outside of his apartment building, and had he not glanced out the window at just the right moment it would have gone completely unnoticed. He tries to take note of it then, with its deep reds and vivid oranges. The sky displays a passion like no other.

When finally he's convinced that he can take no more, he walks to his bedroom door and stands, listening for a minute before knocking lightly. Silence. He tries the doorknob and is shocked to find that it turns. Perhaps she wanted him to come after her this whole time. He cracks the door and finds Tris asleep on the floor, next to his bed. He looks at her in that moment not with pity or worry, but purely with love. This frustrating, stubborn girl is far too dear to him to let her slip away again.

He leans down and scoops her up carefully, laying her down on the bed gently and covering her with the comforter that still sits in a heap from this morning. He tucks the covers beneath her chin and then can't help himself as he reaches out his hand and gently runs it down the bruised portion of her face, caressing her lovingly.

She grabs his hand from where it rests and grips it tightly. "I'm sorry," she whimpers.

He takes the hand which is clutching his own and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. "You're forgiven," he whispers back, completely forgetting how he could ever have been mad at her in the first place. 

At first he expects she'll begin crying, but instead she tightens her grip even further on his hand and asks, "Will you…stay with me? Just for a little while?" She's hesitant, but her eyes are wide with worry now as she looks up at him desperately.

She's scared, he realises quickly. She's scared and she wants him to make it better. "I'll stay until you kick me out," he jokes, smiling softly at her as he climbs over top of her and lies down on the other side of the bed.

He's surprised when Tris doesn't close the space between them or cuddle up to his body. Instead, she continues to grip his hand tightly in hers to bridge the gap. It's her assurance that he's here, and all will be well. Eventually, things will be okay.


End file.
